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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29452260">[shut up and run me like a river]</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronolith/pseuds/Chronolith'>Chronolith</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Miya Atsumu, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Consensual Underage Sex, Fingerfucking, Intersex Omegas, Knotting, M/M, Omega Hinata Shouyou, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, betas taken seriously, really an awful lot of feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:00:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,593</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29452260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronolith/pseuds/Chronolith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p><br/>“I can’t <em>play</em> if I’m in heat,” Shouyou wails. He shakes Atsumu by his jacket again. “I didn’t get all this way. Beat the Grand King”—who the actual fuck?—”Beat Ushijima-san”—Shouyou punctuates this with another hard shake—“Beat <em>you</em> to just fail here because of something stupid like a <em>heat!</em>”<br/></p>
</blockquote>or, the one where Hinata goes into heat and makes it entirely Atsumu's personal problem.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>632</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>[shut up and run me like a river]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, new fandom. Have porn.</p><p>Thank you, Kana &amp; Sky for the beta</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The scent is nearly nauseating in its intensity—like walking into a candy factory on a hot day, the sugary smell of cotton candy and cinnamon and something sharp underneath all of that—and overwhelming in its suddenness. Atsumu doesn’t cling to the door. (And if you put him on a witness stand to question him, he will <em>lie</em>.) But it’s a near thing. For a second he, semi-hysterically, thinks he can see the scent roll over him like a cloud. He stands there, breathing open-mouthed and panting, trying to orient himself. </p><p>At first, he thinks it’s a prank. That some dumb fucker had decided it’d be hilarious to scent bomb one of the boys’ bathrooms with the smell of an omega in the middle of a mind-breakingly intense heat. But then he hears it. So soft it’s almost overwhelmed by the hum of the industrial air conditioning system of Tokyo’s national gymnasium, but unmistakable: the whimpers of a distressed omega.</p><p><em>Shit</em>.</p><p>He should, if he has any goddamned sense at all, turn right the fuck around and find Kita. Block the door and then find the most terrifyingly competent beta to ever exist and make him deal with this mess. Is that what he does? No. Of course, not. Because Atsumu <em>knows</em> that voice. Heard it shout, high and piping, in glee. Growl at him full of challenge and defiance. Chirp all delighted and disgustingly cute for another toss. Atsumu knows that voice and like fuck will he walk away after hearing it cry like everything good in the world has withered and died. </p><p>Atsumu notes, with no little trepidation, how empty the bathroom is—rows upon rows of stalls all standing empty except for the very last one. It’s not a surprise. Not really. He’d gone looking for a hidden place to think (<em>not sulk, shut up ‘Samu</em>) after their humiliating defeat at the hands of Karasuno, some upstart team from fuck-only-knows-where Miyagi. </p><p>A team made utterly fascinating by one itty-bitty, half feral spiker with an unreal vertical. </p><p>An itty-bitty, half feral spiker apparently crying his eyes out in the very last bathroom stall, filling the entire room with the sugar-sweet smell of his heat. What the ever living <em>fuck</em>.  Atsumu spends a solid minute—at least thirty seconds—contemplating doing the smart, rational thing before he cautiously pushes open the bathroom stall. Like the dumbass his twin has always said he is. Welp.</p><p>“Shouyou-kun?”</p><p>It breaks something right under his ribs when Shouyou’s shoulders hunch up even higher around his ears as his sobbing hitches with his surprise. Atsumu can only stand there and stare like some sort of dumb lump of stupid shaped like a teenaged boy, as Shouyou slowly turns around, still hiccupping softly in distress. Atsumu hates that sound. Hates it. Resolves right then and there that he’s going to do everything in his power to make it stop.</p><p>“Atsumu-san,” Shouyou breathes. The change in his expression is startling. Unease prickles up Atsumu’s spine in a wave. Shouyou goes from looking like his heart has been ripped out of his chest and then set on fire right in front of him, to looking like he’s seeing the solution to all his problems appear for the first time. “You should fuck me.”</p><p>Atsumu’s pretty sure he can hear the record scratch of all his thoughts hitting a brick wall of baffled incomprehension. Part of him can’t believe he’s even hearing the word ‘fuck’ tumble out of Shouyou’s—very pretty, very pink, very distracting—mouth; the other part of him, the part ruled by all his dumb alpha instincts, sits up with delighted interest. He licks his lips slow. Blinks even slower, like that will reset the world and remove those horrible—horribly tempting—words from his personal universe. </p><p>“No,” he says carefully enunciating each word, like that’ll help convince anyone of his sincerity. “No, I’m pretty sure I should absolutely not do that.”</p><p>Shouyou is in his space before he can even register the movement. Fuck, the tiny bastard is fast. He fists his hands in Atsumu’s jacket and shakes him. Hard. “Yes, you should,” he hisses. “I’m in <em>heat</em>.”</p><p>“I did notice that,” Atsumu snaps. He tries to pry Shouyou’s fingers off his jacket without much luck. “It’s kinda hard t’ miss what with yah making the place smell like a candy store in mid-summer.”</p><p>He says this like it’s some kind of insult. Like it’s disgusting. But at his core Atsumu is a <em>liar</em> and he knows he’s lying now. He’s always had a sweet tooth fit to rival any shoujo protagonist. The sticky sweet scent pouring off Shouyou just makes him want to put his mouth all over Shouyou’s skin. Makes him want to devour this tiny omega whole until there is nothing left. It’s not a particularly sane reaction, so he’s doing his level best to ignore it. </p><p>His best, he’d like to note, is not very good. </p><p>“I can’t <em>play</em> if I’m in heat,” Shouyou wails. He shakes Atsumu by his jacket again. “I didn’t get all this way. Beat the Grand King”—who the actual fuck?—”Beat Ushijima-san”—Shouyou punctuates this with another hard shake—“Beat <em>you</em> to just fail here because of something stupid like a <em>heat!</em>”</p><p>He’s crying now. Full on sobbing, with fat tears turning his pretty lashes into jagged spikes, spilling down his cheeks in messy tracks. Atsumu didn’t think he was the type of person to be turned on by crying, but here he is. He also sort of wants to fight the entire world, the whole fucking universe, to make it stop.</p><p>“Hey.” Atsumu kinda stalls out after that, not at all sure how to handle a messily sobbing omega fast hurtling towards what looks to be one nasty heat. He sighs, thinks <em>welp</em> at himself, and gently gathers Shouyou up into his arms. “We’ll get yah some emergency blockers,” he says as soothingly as he knows how, rocking Shouyou gently, “they’ll kick in pretty fast. Yah might miss day three hell, but yer team is strong, they’ll make the semis and you’ll be ready t’ go after that. ‘kay?”</p><p>Shouyou shakes his head, nose digging almost painfully into Atsumu’s sternum. “No! You don’t understand!”</p><p>Atsumu kinda does. He’s pretty sure him and Shouyou are exactly the same sort of player—a few screws loose, as his brother would say, when it came to volleyball. He’d hate it if he missed even a single game because of a mistimed rut, but it’s just a game, maybe two. Shouyou’ll bounce right back and be ready to go for the semis. Atsumu’s sure of it. He runs a gentle hand down Shouyou’s back, trying to soothe away the trembling tension he can feel thrum all through Shouyou’s body. “Shouyou-kun—”</p><p>“You can’t take emergency blockers for your first heat!”</p><p>And then there’s that record scratch sound again as Atsumu’s entire train of thought utterly derails. Nothing but smoke and fire and screaming left in the wreckage.</p><p>“Yer first?”</p><p>All he gets in response is a hiccupping sob. </p><p>Atsumu stares down at the head of fluffy orange hair and thinks that he might be having a whole ass mental breakdown. Victorian style hysterics. Something. He takes a deep breath, swallows all the unhelpful things he wants to scream, and very carefully reaches for what little confidence he has as a reliable upperclassman. Only one of them needs to be having a hysterical fit right now, and Shouyou definitely has dibs. “Yah just presented.”</p><p>“I thought I had more <em>time!</em>”</p><p>Logically, Atsumu can see where the problem lies. It’s not unusual for people have to pretty good idea of when they’re gonna go through the hell known as presenting—a person’s body deciding to put the ‘open for business’ sign up when it came to getting down and dirty—the full body aches like the worst kind of growing pains, the weird ass random dreams, suddenly noticing everyone and anyone. He’d known, after all, a good week before all hell had broken loose when him and ‘Samu had presented. But Shouyou’s been jammed into the high stress, high stakes emotional chaos of Nationals. Shoved up against the haywire pheromones of gods only knew how many teenaged alphas. His body had probably decided that it was too tempting an opportunity to pass up and just … kinda … got a jump on the whole process. Really, he’s got nothing but sympathy for the tiny spitfire in his arms.</p><p>But he <em>also</em> needs to get the fuck out of this bathroom before he loses what little self-control he’s been able to scrape together. Because Shouyou’s self-control has to be completely non-existent. Evidence of this piece one: flinging himself at <em>Atsumu</em> like he couldn’t do better.</p><p>“Yah need t’ go back t’ yer team,” he says carefully. Shouyou makes a sound of distress so heart rending that Atsumu’s honestly surprised that his heart—going roughly a million miles a minute—is still lodged within the cage of his ribs. “Yah need—”</p><p>“What I <em>need</em> is for you to <em>fuck</em> me,” Shouyou interrupts, glaring straight up at him. Atsumu freezes under the intensity of his stare. He feels like a small, helpless prey animal coming face to face with some vicious bird of prey. He’s pretty sure that, as the alpha in this situation, that he shouldn’t feel like this, all helpless and trapped under the ferocity of Shouyou’s glare. He’s <em>also</em> pretty sure he’s into it. He probably needs to get his head checked. Shouyou shakes him again. “Now.”</p><p>Atsumu tries to use his scent and posture to calm Shouyou down—hands making calming circles along Shouyou’s back until he chirps at Atsumu instead of making that weird chainsaw rumbling noise that signals an omega is about two point five seconds from gutting something. He’s not great at throwing his pheromones around. That’s more ‘Samu’s gig than his. So, he’s not entirely successful with the whole ‘calm down the distressed omega’ thing. Shouyou tightens his grip, refusing to be untangled from Atsumu’s spaces, even as Atsumu tries to squirm his way free. </p><p>“Yah don’t really want me t’ do that,” he tries to argue with no little desperation. It’s getting really, ah, difficult to ignore how Shouyou presses up against him like he’s been specifically designed to slot against Atsumu like two pieces of a (very simple) puzzle.</p><p>“Yes, I do,” Shouyou hisses, savage and intense, as he crowds in closer to Atsumu and backs them up until Atsumu’s back slams into the wall behind them. Atsumu swallows hard as Shouyou’s scent spikes. Figures that he’d be a fuckin’ natural at using his scent and pheromones to get what he wants. Keeps right in line with Shouyou’s unholy preternatural physical abilities. Atsumu is screwed. He’s <em>so</em> screwed. “I want you to fuck me.” There’s a glint in Shouyou’s honey brown eyes that frankly worries Atsumu more than a little. “I want you to knot me.” Oh yeah. Okay. That’s definitely gonna feature prominently in all of Atsumu’s wet dreams from here until the end of gods damned time. “I want you to do it right <em>now</em> and right <em>here</em>, so I can <em>play</em>.”</p><p>A high, hysterical giggle escapes Atsumu because honestly this little volleyball gremlin’s priorities are a thing of fucking wonder. </p><p>Shouyou snarls at him. All tiny fangs and fury. Atsumu has about a half second to think <em>oh fuck</em> before Shouyou straight up climbs him like he’s a gods damned tree and plants the messiest kiss Atsumu has ever had in his entire seventeen years of existence right on his mouth. It’s hot. It’s so hot that Atsumu’s pretty sure all his higher brain functions have turned into molten slag right on contact. He’s got no choice but to grab Shouyou under his thighs and ass—oh holy shit, fuck his entire life, he’d kinda had some vague thoughts about that perky bubble butt, but getting a firm handful is scattering all his thoughts like startled birds—to try to stabilize him. </p><p>He needs to pry this tiny, heat-addled omega off him and high tail it straight to Kita, who will know what to do about this because it’s pretty clear that Atsumu does <em>not</em> know what to do. He’s got about a thimble full of common sense left and an ocean of alpha instincts beating at the door. Someone needs to be making good decisions and it’s pretty clear that person isn’t gonna be him and sure as shit isn’t going to be Shouyou.</p><p>He tries to get Shouyou back on his feet, but the brat just locks his ankles around Atsumu’s waist and then <em>grinds</em> down. The moan that rips out Atsumu’s throat at that is so broken and blatantly pornographic that he can feel his entire face go up in flames in embarrassment, but Shouyou doesn’t give him any time to process any of that. (Isn’t really giving him any time to process <em>anything</em>.) He fists one hand in Atsumu’s hair—jagged, chewed up nails scratching along his scalp in way that feels disgustingly good—and fits the other around his neck—rough calluses from spiking scraping over of Atsumu’s scent gland—and drags him back into another filthy kiss.</p><p>It’s clear that Shouyou has not one clue what he’s doing, that he’s running on pure primordial instinct, but all of it feels so blindingly good that Atsumu might be in serious danger of coming in his shorts like some sort of lame scrub. He manages to pull back from Shouyou’s mouth and the feral brat straight up <em>growls</em> at him. The sound makes all the blood in Atsumu’s body rush south so fast he’s almost struck stupid with it. </p><p>“Wait, wait, wait,” Atsumu chants before his voice fractures into a breathy whine when Shouyou ducks his head to nip his way long Atsumu’s jaw line and then suck gently on his scent gland. With precisely zero permission from his rational mind, his hips buck up against Shouyou, making the brat in his arms coo. “God, fuck, <em>Shouyou</em>.”</p><p>That gets him a delighted laugh right against his neck. Atsumu has to close his eyes against the way that the feeling of Shouyou’s hot breath against his scent gland makes him shiver all over. </p><p>“I like it when you call my name, Atsumu-san,” Shouyou croons. Atsumu is almost entirely certain an omega isn’t supposed to sound like this—all darkly amused and sickeningly confident. Whatever the hell set of instincts the tiny bastard is running off of, it’s clearly never been reflected in any of the porn that Atsumu’s seen. “You should sound like that all the time.”</p><p>Fuck. Shitfuck. <em>God damn.</em> He’s gonna die in this objectively terrible bathroom.</p><p>“Will yah fucking <em>stop?!</em>”</p><p>This gets Shouyou to pause, to pull back and consider him thoughtfully. Atsumu lets his head thunk back against the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth. His cock is so hard he might actually be able to legit hammer down nails with it. His nose and mouth are full of Shouyou’s candy store scent. And he’s only holding onto his dignity and self-control by his fingertips and knowledge that Kita would be <em>so</em> disappointed in him if he knotted this little idiot on the floor of the bathroom. (Against the wall, bent over one of the toilets, pressed up against the mirrors; honestly, he’s got a million different images for how this could go, and they are all sickeningly hot.) His instincts are starting up a drumbeat of <em>Shouyou, Shouyou, Shouyou,</em>, but he is not gonna have his first time on the grubby floor of some forgotten bathroom in Yoyogi National Gymnasium. He is <em>not</em>. </p><p>“You don’t want me?” Shouyou asks, all soft and hurt. </p><p>Atsumu cannot abide hurt in Shouyou’s tone, the wounded expression in his eyes. It makes something inside him clench up tight and miserable. He pulls Shouyou down against him as he rolls his hips up, grinding his cock up against Shouyou hard enough to make them both go a little cross-eyed. “That is not the problem.”</p><p>Shouyou gives him a perplexed look. “Then what is the problem.”</p><p>He cannot with this gremlin. He can<em>n o t</em>. “Do yah ever think through anything that yah do?”</p><p>Shouyou wrinkles his nose at him. “When it’s about volleyball.” He rocks down again and moans all high and breathless in a way that’s honestly the sluttiest thing that Atsumu thinks he’s ever seen outside of porn. “You should fuck me.”</p><p>“I’m not going to fuck yah in a bathroom like a mannerless scrub.”</p><p>This gets him a thoughtful little head tilt that’s two-thirds the most adorable thing he’s ever seen and one-third the most worrying. “Is there somewhere else we could go?”</p><p>“Is there somewhere else—” Atsumu sputters. Shouyou just blinks at him, all cute shamelessness. “No, yah feral gremlin!”</p><p>Tears start to well up in Shouyou’s eyes, making them seem even bigger and more luminous than before. If Shouyou starts crying again Atsumu is going to lose his entire fucking mind. </p><p>“If you don’t fuck me, I won’t be able to <em>play</em>,” he hiccups. Atsumu can feel his self-control shattering. This has been the longest he’s ever denied himself anything he’s wanted in his entire life and everyone should be real here, self-restraint is really not in his universe of skills. Shouyou sniffles. “It hurts, Atsumu-san,” he whimpers. “Make it stop <em>hurting</em>.”</p><p>Atsumu can feel the last tether of his self-control snap like a rubber band stretched too far. He tightens his grip on Shouyou’s ass, fingers pressing into wonderfully firm muscle, and drags Shouyou against him. Shouyou chirps, all happy omega now that he’s getting what he wants, and peppers Atsumu’s face with a flurry of little kisses before coming back to kiss him sloppy and slick. </p><p>They’re just starting to get a rhythm going between them that’s so good that Atsumu’s seriously revaluating his stance on no sex in public restrooms, when the heavy bathroom door bangs open. </p><p>“Where the hell are you, idiot?” Calls none other than one Kageyama Tobio, Karasuno’s cranky omega setter. This is emphatically <em>not</em> Atsumu’s day. </p><p>Shouyou stops kissing all the higher functions right out of Atsumu’s head with a furious little snarl. </p><p>Atsumu can see the exact moment when what’s been going on registers for Kageyama. He can see Kageyama’s eyes go big and round with shock and maybe something a little like hurt, before they narrow into furious slits. </p><p>“Let him go.” The words rattle out of Kageyama in a tone so low it might as well have crawled out of the molten core of the earth.</p><p>Shouyou tightens his grip on Atsumu and gives a chirping, chittering sort of growl that is one hundred and ten percent instinct and zero percent home to any sort of rational thought. It draws Kageyama up short. Stops him so abruptly it’s like he’s slammed into an invisible wall. </p><p>“Go away, Kageyama,” Shouyou says in a tone so soft it can only be understood as two steps away from murder. “Turn around and go away right now.”</p><p>“You’re in heat,” Kageyama says. Atsumu can tell he’s trying for cajoling and missing it by a mile. “You don’t mean—”</p><p>Shouyou gives that chittering growl again. Atsumu’s gonna have bruises in the shape of Shouyou’s fingers from where he’s clutching at Atsumu’s shoulders. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”</p><p>Ah hell, he’s stuck in the middle of some kind of lovers’ spat. It’d be funny if he wasn’t pinned to the wall by all 45kg of Hinata Shouyou, trapped there by the steel cables Shouyou calls thighs. </p><p>“Him?” The sheer disbelief in Kageyama’s tone makes every one of the alpha instincts that Atsumu’s been trying to beat into submission flare up in territorial offense. Who the fuck was this beanpole goody-goody to second guess him? Fuck that noise.</p><p>Before Atsumu can say anything, Shouyou dips down and kisses him slow and filthy. Tongue licking into Atsumu’s mouth like he owns it, teeth biting Atsumu’s lips until they’re swollen and aching, stealing the breath from his lungs until he’s barely able to stand up even with the wall at his back. Shouyou pulls away to give him a lazy look over that’s so possessive and pleased that Atsumu can’t help but preen under it. </p><p>“Yes,” Shouyou says, smug as all fuck. “Him.”</p><p>Whatever Kageyama was going to say to that—and Atsumu kinda feels for the kid, just a little, because <em>god damn</em> Shouyou—when the door swings open again, and his brother walks in.</p><p>His twin stares at the entire scene without a single emotion disturbing the expression of faint disinterest Osamu normally wears. “Yah move fast,” his twin comments like he’s noting a change in weather. “This is like, what, less than an hour?”</p><p>“Fuck yah self!”</p><p>Shouyou curls into his arms to hide his face against Atsumu’s neck, not even bothering to hide his giggles. Horrible feral little goblin. It’s a whole ass problem that Atsumu thinks he’s so cute. Clearly, he’s got zero sense of self-preservation if this the type of omega he’s into. </p><p>“I’m getting Kita,” Osamu says in the exact sort of tone that he used to use when he’d say he was gonna get their dam when they were nine and Atsumu’d accidently spiked a volleyball right into his prized azaleas. But more fool his brother, Kita is exactly the person he wants right now.</p><p>“Oh god, please,” he replies so fervently that Shouyou makes an offended little noise and bites him. </p><p>Atsumu can’t quite swallow the breathless, slutty little moan that escapes him as Shouyou’s omega fangs dig into his throat right below his scent glands. Just south enough to avoid a mating bite. Kageyama’s eyes narrow down into murderous little slits, but his brother’s eyes widen in shocked surprise. There’s a moment where he thinks there might be something to the whole ‘twin telepathy’ that everyone accuses them of because he can see the panic that he’s been simmering in suddenly reflected on his brother’s face. Sees the instant that Osamu realizes that, oh yeah, no shit this whole situation is bad, and they need their designated adult right the fuck now. </p><p>His twin turns on one heel and is off like a shot through the door. Atsumu can hear him shouting even through the heavy metal door, which is an honest fucking relief even if it means that he’s gonna get a whole face full of disappointed Kita Shinsuke. </p><p>Shouyou makes an annoyed noise. “Now we’re not gonna have enough time for you to knot me so we can get my heat over with,” he complains like the little volleyball obsessed gremlin he is. He brightens up with an idea that Atsumu knows down to his toes he’s not gonna like. “We should run. You can fuck me somewhere else!” He says all bright and perky. “Since you didn’t wanna fuck me in a bathroom.”</p><p>Kageyama makes a sound like a drunk duck getting strangled, and honestly Atsumu feels that in the very atoms of his soul.</p><p>“I ain’t fuckin’ yah through yer first heat in some dirty corner like a mannerless scrub, yah utter nut,” he sighs. He doesn’t really expect this to actually percolate through Shouyou’s head. It hasn’t the past three million (three) times he’s said it after all. “Yah should have more than that fer yer first time.”</p><p>Shouyou’s expression goes sweet. It makes the breath catch in Atsumu’s chest to have that kind of look turned on him. He’s entirely certain he’s not the type of person to ever deserve that sort of soft, adoring look from someone like Hinata Shouyou—who, Atsumu is pretty sure, is a far better person than he personally will ever be. “Are you a romantic, Atsumu-san?” Shouyou coos. “Do you want to do it with, like, rose petals?”</p><p>Atsumu is gonna drop this twerp in a lake. He can feel the flush roll up his face all the way to his very ear tips. “Shuddup,” he mutters as Shouyou hides his face against his neck, shaking so hard with laughter that Atsumu might actually drop him by accident. “Sheets at the very least would be nice.”</p><p>“Atsumu-san <em>is</em> a romantic,” Shouyou chirps, apparently utterly delighted at this discovery. He squirms around so much in Atsumu’s arms that he nearly knocks Atsumu off his feet. Shouyouu rubs the line of his jaw against Atsumu’s shoulders, scent marking him like the feral brat he is. Atsumu is not going to survive this with his sanity intact. Not even a little. Shouyou nips his ear, dragging an inhuman sound of wanting out of Atsumu’s mouth, and coos: “Atsumu-san is so cute.”</p><p>Okay. Not the thing any alpha wants to hear from an omega that’s been begging (demanding) to be knotted for the last twenty minutes. Atsumu nips him in warning, just a light bite, right over Shouyou’s scent gland. </p><p>The reaction is immediate. </p><p>Shouyou melts against him, dazed, his eyes glazing over as he hiccups out a breathless little purr. Which, finally. That’s more like it. Atsumu fits his mouth against Shouyou’s gland and sucks hard, careful to keep his fangs away, but dragging blood to the surface so that when he lets go with a soft pop there’s already a deep, deep bruise forming. </p><p>“Stop being a brat,” he says with as much alpha authority as he can muster and Shouyou nods, eyes hazed over with his heat and lust and things Atsumu doesn’t really have the words for. “Or I won’t fuck yah.”</p><p>“You’re not going to fuck him at all!”</p><p>Oh yeah. Kageyama is still in the room. That’s a problem.</p><p>Shouyou starts up his unearthly, chittering growl again. The noise raising the little hairs on the back of Atsumu’s neck. Even Kageyama looks uneasy. Atsumu has the immediate, bone-deep realization that if he does not get Kageyama out of this room, Shouyou’s very likely to rip his throat out. Somehow, for reasons that escape Atsumu entirely, in the last however long they’ve been in this claustrophobic bathroom Shouyou’s decided that Atsumu is <em>his</em> and he’s not gonna be deterred. </p><p><em>F u c k</em>.</p><p>But Kageyama’s intervention is like being dropped in ice water. The scent of him—all bitter, unhappy omega with the acidic tang of real fear right under that—works better than even the idea of Kita’s disappointed face. They lock eyes over Shouyou’s shoulder. Atsumu isn’t sure what Kageyama sees in his expression, in his eyes, but whatever it, it makes the other setter relax a little.</p><p>“Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu says, all soft and intimate. Shouyou buries his face in the crook of his neck, breathing hard with just the start of a sob bleeding into his voice. It breaks his heart, it really does, but Shouyou deserves better than to have his first time—in the middle of his first heat, a heat that’s taking him by surprise and scrambling his brains—on hard tile with the entirety of the high school volleyball world right outside the door. “Yah need t’ let me go.”</p><p>“You don’t want me,” Shouyou all but wails into Atsumu’s shoulder. He’d kinda thought he’d proven that was wrong in every way it’s possible for a statement to be wrong, but apparently he would be wrong. He’s been wrong a lot today, he should probably just get used to it.</p><p>“Yah know that’s not true,” Atsumu rolls his hips just to make Shouyou give that adorable squeak (and if it makes Kageyama narrow his eyes in warning, well that’s just a bonus), “but yah deserve better than this.”</p><p>“I want this,” Shouyou hisses back. When he raises his face, his eyes are red-rimmed, tears welling in them again and oh fuck Atsumu wants to cut out his own heart and hand it over as long as Shouyou promises to never cry like this again. “I want <em>you</em>, and this, and <em>now</em>.”</p><p>Atsumu tries to stomp on all the pieces of him—primordial and ancient, living deep in his brainstem—that light up when Shouyou says <em>I want you</em> because he knows Shouyou doesn’t mean it. Not really. It’s the heat and the stress talking. The terror of not being able to play his next game because of forces beyond his control. Atsumu <em>knows</em> this. But his alpha is absolutely not listening to reason today.</p><p>“I want you too,” he confesses like it’s a sin, like it’s the worst thing that he can possibly admit. He rubs his jaw along Shouyou’s temple, across his shoulders, scent marking as best he can with Shouyou clinging to him like a koala. “But not like this.”</p><p>“Why <em>not!</em>” </p><p>Atsumu’s rapidly losing the ability to deny Shouyou anything he wants because when Shouyou shouts his question there’s a solid one hundred and eight seconds when Atsumu absolutely cannot come up with a single reason for why not. All his instincts have officially teamed up with his dick to beat his rational mind and any sort of self-preservation instinct into a box. He doesn’t respond. Or at least not with words. He shuffles Shouyou into one arm, only possible because for such a tiny thing he’s got an unholy strength in his body and he’s pretty much keeping himself wrapped around Atsumu’s body, and tilts Shouyou’s chin so he can kiss him slow and sweet.</p><p>Shouyou hiccups into his mouth. He tastes like salt and desperation, but he lets Atsumu kiss him in a smooth slide of lips and tongue. Atsumu tries to fit all the reverence he has for the gifts Shouyou’s all unknowingly trying to lay at his feet in the movement of their mouths. He’s not sure it works. Shouyou’s still crying, but he seems calmer. </p><p>Kageyama’s making a noise not unlike a tea kettle left to boil too long—a high hissing sound of displeasure. It’d be pretty funny, except for the way it makes Shouyou tense up in his arms. Atsumu can feel the coiled violence that Kageyama probably doesn’t deserve, but is absolutely gonna get if he doesn’t figure out how to back off. </p><p>“I said: <em>let him go</em>,” Kageyama repeats, voice gone all low and snarling. It’s a pretty intimidating tone, Atsumu’s gotta admit, and at any other point in time he might actually be spooked. But the way Shouyou goes so still and quiet has miles upon miles on Kageyama’s intimidation factor. Kageyama doesn’t seem to notice as he closes the last few meters between them. “<em>Now.</em>”</p><p>Atsumu thinks that Shouyou is gonna take a swipe at Kageyama. Try to claw his face off. Scream. Pretty much anything except for what Shouyou actually does.</p><p>Which is to fit his mouth to Atsumu’s scent gland and <em>bite</em>.</p><p>There’s a moment where Atsumu can’t feel anything at all around the way his entire personal universe explodes into heat and white starbursts behind his eyes, as if he’s got a little localized supernova going off right in the back of his brainstem. He staggers against the wall. Hits it with one shoulder and just kinda crumples to the floor, Shouyou still cradled in his arms. </p><p>“<em>Atsumu!</em>”</p><p>At first, he thinks all the yelling is in his head—all his instincts shrieking in one overwhelming cacophony—but no, it’s his brother and half his team pouring into the bathroom right in time to see him get his entire ass owned by one feral, heat-addled omega. Atsumu gets the impression of his twin’s horrified face, Suna yanking out his phone, and Kageyama getting jerked out of the way by Aran before Kita slides down next to him.</p><p>“Atsumu-kun,” Kita says, so soft it’s almost a whisper. His hands hover over them, hesitant, as Shouyou rumbles out a warning growl.</p><p>Shouyou’s still latched onto his scent gland. He can feel those sharp fangs dig into him, slicing through the thin skin over his gland until they pierce that tiny but so incredibly important bit of his biology. His breath shatters into little broken pants. The sensation of Shouyou’s fangs digging into his gland is so intense he thinks he might be dying. For one long second—an eternity counted out by his hummingbird quick heartbeats—his scent gland feels like an overripe fruit swelling in Shouyou’s mouth until it bursts. </p><p>“Oh, <em>shit</em>.”</p><p>If Atsumu could laugh, he would. Trust ‘Samu to articulate the one coherent thought he’s got rattling around in his head. Oh, <em>shit</em> is right. </p><p>But he can’t laugh. He can’t do anything at all except lean against the wall, a wrecked pile of limbs with a lap full of snarling omega. He feels like someone has brained him upside the head with a two-by-four. Head ringing, vision blurring, thoughts scattered every which direction and sensation coming in little snapshots of sensation.</p><p>He can feel Shouyou come off his neck with a soft pop. There’s blood on Shouyou’s lips that he kinda wants to wipe away, tears making a mess of his boy’s pretty face that he wants to kiss away, but all he can do is lean there against the wall and pant. Shouyou’s eyes are very bright. So pretty. So very fucking pretty, but also nearly inhuman in the savage possessiveness glowing in them.</p><p>“He’s mine!” Shouyou wails. “He’s <em>mine!</em> And you can’t take him!”</p><p>Things get a little confusing after that.</p><p>He blinks and suddenly Shouyou isn’t in his arms, on his lap, wrapped around him like Shouyou owns every piece of him. Kita’s got his wrists in both hands. Atsumu looks down at Kita’s white-knuckled grip ( he’s gonna have bruises from that) and wonders what exactly Kita’s afraid he’s gonna do. Osama’s kneeling in front of him, hands hovering over his neck, saying something but Atsumu can’t hear it over the rush of blood pounding in his head.</p><p>There’s a slow, sluggish trail of blood trickling down his neck, over his collarbones, soaking into his shirt. Atsumu pulls his shirt collar forward enough to study the slow spread of red soaking into his white t-shirt. Everything feels very far away, under water, detached in a way he’s used to associating with head injuries and shock. He raises one hand to press against his throat—Kita’s grip sliding off him—right behind his ear, and it comes back sticky-wet. Everything seems very quiet as he stares at the red staining his fingers.</p><p>He can’t seem to raise his head from where he’s leaning against the wall. Too heavy. Too dazed by the way his entire universe seems busy reordering itself around one Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno’s pint-sized hellion of a middle blocker. </p><p>Objective Atsumu, rational Atsumu, the Atsumu that’s <em>not</em> having some sort of mental breakdown, knows exactly what’s happening inside his head, in his bloodstream, in the very chemical composition of his body. Shouyou’s saliva mixing with his punctured scent gland—his mating gland—to form a bond that can only be broken through serious chemical interference and a fuck ton of pain. And sometimes not even then. Atsumu closes his eyes and lets himself drift, trying not to think too much about who he’s going to be when he opens his eyes again.</p><p>“‘Tsumu, you need to respond to me right the fuck now.”</p><p>If this were any other time, Atsumu would mock his twin for how his voice has gone high and pitchy with anxiety. Tease him for the way his voice cracks on Atsumu’s name. But he can barely open his eyes, much less string together two brain cells to figure out how to form words. He just kinda looks at Osamu and notes, with a distracted sort of fascination, how his eyes won’t quite focus. </p><p>“Shit, it’s a good thing we’ve been knocked out of Nationals. There’s no way he can stand, much less play,” mutters a voice that sounds kinda like Suna—if Suna were able to emote that much naked worry. </p><p>There’s the dull sound of someone getting swatted, a faint squawk and then the voices recede like the low tide pulling away from the shore. Atsumu drifts again. </p><p>When he opens his eyes again the bathroom is almost empty. Just Kita, with his hands wrapped around his wrists again, throwing around a metric fuck ton of beta ‘you will be chill or <em>else</em>’ pheromones. Atsumu’s not at all sure what he’s done to warrant this level of pheromone whammy, and it makes a distant alarm start to blare in the back of his head. </p><p>“Where’s Shouyou?”</p><p>Kita startles, grimaces, and then—much worse for Atsumu’s general state of chill—hesitates. </p><p>“Where,” Atsumu repeats, voice going low and rasping, “is my <em>mate</em>?”</p><p>“Well,” says his twin from somewhere behind him, “answers the question of whether or not the bite took.”</p><p>The look that Kita levels at his brother should, by all rights, scorch Osamu right off the face of the planet. Kita raises both his wrists to Atsumu, delicate veins a filigree of blue right under his porcelain skin. It’s an old gesture. One almost everyone except for Kita, with his insistence on diligence and manners, has probably forgotten. Atsumu can either press his face to those dainty wrists and let Kita’s scent pull him into a deep calm from which nothing can shake him.</p><p>Or he can rip Kita’s arteries open with his fangs.</p><p>He presses his face to Kita’s wrists, rolls his cheeks against them like he’s a cat marking his territory, and lets Kita drag him down below the ice of a beta-induced calm. It does not, however, remove the most pressing question on his mind.</p><p>When he tilts his face so he can look up at Kita, still keeping one cheek pressed to Kita’s wrist, he can see the faint expression of trepidation pulling at the corners of his captain’s eyes. Atsumu sighs, slow and deliberate. “Captain”—Kita startles, Atsumu almost never calls him by his title—“where is my mate?”</p><p>“We thought it best if we separated yah,” Kita answers, as calm as he ever is. “Just until we were sure of what’s going on.”</p><p>“Since yah have the common sense of an adhd-addled ferret, yah drip,” Osamu adds. </p><p>Kita sighs. “Unhelpful, Osamu-kun,” he rebukes gently. He threads his fingers through Atsumu’s hair, an unusual gesture, which just brings home exactly how anxious he must be. “We were waiting to see if the bite would take,” he explains. Atsumu hums a noncommittal answer. He doesn’t understand why it wouldn’t have taken—the memory of Shouyou’s fangs popping his scent gland like a cherry ripples through him with a full body shiver—but that’s just Kita’s diligence all over. “But clearly that hope was in vain.”</p><p>Atsumu frowns at him. The very idea of being Shouyou’s mate—being wanted, claimed, wearing the irrefutable proof that Shouyou picked <em>him</em>—fills him with the sort of deep-seated satisfaction of a long rally that ends with the other team eating a point, a hard-fought win. </p><p>“Yer seventeen,” Kita says, reading his expression as easily as he’d read a map of his home neighborhood, all of Atsumu’s thoughts easily discerned through long association. “Shouyou-kun is sixteen, and just presented.”</p><p>Right. That. The whole reason he was crumpled on a bathroom floor like a marionette with its strings cut. He tries to get his feet underneath him, but his heels scramble against the tile, his entire sense of balance completely screwed.</p><p>“What the hell,” Osamu squawks before getting a hand under each of his elbows to help drag him upright. “What the fuck do yah think yer doing, idiot.”</p><p>Atsumu rolls his eyes, because the answer to that should be fuckin’ obvious. “I am going to find my mate.”</p><p>“And if … there are people that think that might be unwise?” Kita asks like he genuinely doesn’t know the answer despite how delicately he’d worded the question.</p><p>The mere idea that someone might stand between him and Shouyou—his <em>mate</em>—fills Atsumu with an endless well of rage. Even through the enforced calm of Kita’s pheromones working overtime, he can feel the willingness to commit unspeakable violence write itself all over his face.</p><p>“Ah,” Kita says while Osamu swears long and low and with some really impressive imagery that Atsumu will have to remember for later.</p><p>They don’t try to stop him after that, just flank him like a pair of sentinels, as he pushes open the bathroom door. It settles something in the primordial bit of his mind, the part of him that lives in the dark corners of his bloodstream, to have them at his back. His pack, there to support his claim. As it should be.</p><p>Atsumu opens the door to utter pandemonium. Somewhere in the intervening time between Shouyou deciding to completely reorient Atsumu’s personal biology and Atsumu shoving open the bathroom door, all hell had decided to break loose. He spots his coach getting into the face of Karasuno’s faculty advisor—doing that quiet yelling thing with a lot of emphatic gestures. He notes how his team has made a wall blocking the bathroom doors, their shoulders very straight—squared up against any challenge. Osamu steps forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. An unspoken wall of support. Not unexpected, but it’s still nice to have the confirmation.</p><p>His team parts for him as he walks out the door. Everything thing goes very quiet the way it does when a crowd is waiting for the first guy to throw a punch. Atsumu guesses he must be that guy.</p><p>“Where’s my mate?”</p><p>He means for the question to come out polite, quiet. He <em>feels</em> very polite and quiet the way he never is without Kita’s pheromones dragging all of his emotions under a metric fuck ton of ice. But his simple question hits like a bomb going off. He can hear people sucking in their breath. See people making little sideways glances at each other that read, in two-hundred-and-eighty-point font with triple underline, ‘oh <em>fuck</em>.’</p><p>“Atsumu-kun,” his coach starts. </p><p>He watches, faintly curious, as the words seem to die in his coach’s mouth. Seeing as no answer seems to be forthcoming from his coach, he turns to Karasuno’s faculty advisor and raises one eyebrow in his best Kita impression. The man doesn’t quite cower, but gives the impression that he would very much like to.</p><p>“Where,” Atsumu repeats slowly, the way one would with a particularly stupid foreign speaker, “is <em>Shouyou?</em>”</p><p>Is that his voice? It sounds like someone dragged his vocal cords through gravel and then lit them on fire. Roughshod and growling. Like he’s one trembling hand span from whole scale slaughter. Which he might be, now that Atsumu thinks about it. He can feel the capacity for violence gaping in front of him like a chasm opened up by a sudden earthquake—deep and dark and overwhelming.</p><p>He’d thought that Kita coating him all over with his pheromones—like he’s some newly presented alpha prone to running off the rails—would’ve made him <em>less</em> willing to viciously murder everyone in between him and Shouyou, but all it’s really done is given him a still place in his mind to plan out every step of violence if needed.</p><p>It must show on his face because everyone steps away from him with their hands up in the universal ‘oh shit, don’t kill anyone’ gesture. </p><p>No one gets the chance to answer him, because Shouyou barrels his way out of the crowd—tearing himself away from the grip of his team—to slam straight into Atsumu’s chest.</p><p>“<em>Mine!</em>” Shouyou shrieks in the high oscillating warble particular to an omega that’s been pushed well past their limits.</p><p>Atsumu cuddles him against his chest, curls around him as best he can, so he can croon low and breathless in Shouyou’s ear, “Yours.” It’s a call and response built into his very blood chemistry. “Yours.”</p><p>There’s a lot of noise around them, but Atsumu ignores it as irrelevant. What’s relevant is Shouyou trembling fit to shake himself apart in Atsumu’s arms, tears drying on his cheeks, a vicious snarl twisting his lips. What’s relevant is the way Shouyou’s heat-thickened scent has gone sour with fear and rage. What’s relevant is that his <em>mate</em> is unhappy, distressed to the point causing himself harm, and it’s Atsumu’s job to fix it.</p><p>He smooths his fingers over Shouyou’s cheek, getting him to look up, and then through his hair. Something deep within his chest unwinds when Shouyou leans into the touch. This is better. This is good. His mate is no longer wound so tight that the slightest wrong turn will make him snap apart at the seams. Shouyou blinks up at him, slow, and then hiccups out a sluggish, hesitant purr. That’s even better. Things are loud, uncomfortably bright, but he’s got his mate in his arms and his pack at his back and things will get better. </p><p>Or Atsumu is going to commit a really worrying amount of violence to make things better.</p><p>“Hinata, you idiot what are you—” </p><p>Atsumu looks up in time to watch Kageyama get yanked back behind the protective wall of his team. Which. Well. That’s probably wise given the way Shouyou’d tensed up at the mere sound of the setter’s voice. Atsumu doesn’t really <em>want</em> to hurt the idiot baby setter, but he absolutely will if Kageyama keeps pissing off his mate. </p><p>He’s not even aware of the low, rattling growl rumbling out of him until Shouyou nuzzles in closer, sighing with relief. They fit together, he notes with a detached sort of glee, like two interlocking pieces to a larger whole. Like Shouyou has always been meant to fit so neatly within the circle of his arms. </p><p>While he’s marveling at this small, personal miracle, his team (pack) flows around him. His brother at his back, Suna and Aran flanking him, Omimi and Ginjima fanning out to manage the growing crowd—even little Riseki planting himself in front of the Karasuno third years like the entire idea of being so disrespectful doesn’t shake him down to his core. Atsumu’s filled with a sudden burst of warmth for these assholes. For the way they don’t even ask, they just move to have his back. It helps, in ways he can’t explain, to have them there.</p><p>Kita’s kneeling next to them. Atsumu blinks, startled, having no memory of how Kita moved from at his back to kneeling next to them with his wrists upturned for Shouyou’s consideration. It is, Atsumu realizes with a jolt, probably the bravest thing his captain has ever done in a long line of very brave things. Offering Shouyou the delicate insides of his wrists, even knowing that Shouyou is as far from rational thought as the dark side of Saturn is from the sun. </p><p>Shouyou blinks. For a moment Atsumu wonders if he’s going to have to protect his captain from his mate (which he will, he will, he <em>will</em>, even if it would rip him apart inside to do it) but then Shouyou blinks again. Blinks, exhales slowly, and then presses his cheeks against the soft skin of Kita’s wrists—lets Kita overwhelm him with scent and pheromone and something particular to Kita that will tolerate nothing less than absolute calm. Absolute control. For a moment, he thinks Shouyou will fight it like he seems to fight everything up to and including his own biology, but then Shouyou just sighs like he’s coming home and melts a little more into all the points of contact keeping him standing. Atsumu’s arms around his waist, Kita’s fingers carding through his hair, Shouyou’s chest pressed against Atsumu’s like he’s trying to meld them together at the molecular level.</p><p>“That’s Kita,” Atsumu rasps once he remembers how to form words. “We do not bite Kita.”</p><p>Kita coughs a soft little sound that passes as one of his reserved laughs when he’s trying to seem mature and Shouyou bites him—right on the edge of his left pec. Why does he like this little shit so much? It’s a question for the ages.</p><p>There’s a long moment where Atsumu is aware of nothing beyond the steady breathing of Shouyou in his arms. Can think of nothing beyond the steady drag of Shouyou’s fingers mapping out the curvature of his spine, the dip of his muscles—charting out his body like it’s Shouyou’s to own free and entire. Shouyou manages to wriggle his fingers up under Atsumu’s shirt, stroking calloused fingers over the delicate skin of his low back. Shouyou, because he’s apparently a complete brat at the core of him, giggles when Atsumu shivers.</p><p>It’s hard to think about much beyond the way Shouyou strokes his hands up Atsumu’s spine like he’s petting a particularly large cat. He wants to both melt into the touch and bundle Shouyou away from everyone else. The conflicting impulse leaves him feeling stuck, trapped where there are too many eyes on them and too many voices demanding explanations for things that he has no words for.</p><p>The feeling of eyes on them, judgmental and challenging, makes his hackles raise in a primordial territoriality. He’s about to snarl, demand their space, when his brother slides up next to them.</p><p>“Okay,” ‘Samu says all sly and smug, the sort of tone that reaches past Atsumu’s instincts to mash the button marked: ‘my twin is being an ass, time to crush him,’ and he bristles on reflex. “Since I really don’t need the visual portion of my sex education delivered by my brother in the middle of the stadium concourse, I think it’s time we find the lovebirds a room, yah?”</p><p>Kita makes another of those huffing half laughs. “I’m sure our coaches are trying to figure something out.”</p><p>Shouyou digs his fingers into Atsumu’s back so hard, he’s sure he’s going to have bruises in perfect mirror images of Shouyou’s fingers right down to the whorls of his fingerprints. “I’m not leaving without Atsumu,” he says. There’s an odd, still quality to Shouyou’s voice. Like he’s not just making a statement, but the sort of promise that threatens to rewrite the rest of reality around it. “I’m not.”</p><p>“No one is gonna make yah,” Kita replies, his voice calm and soothing. “We’ll figure it out.”</p><p>“Never expected anyone t’ decide t’ make an honest alpha outta my brother,” ‘Samu says, staring up at the ceiling like he’s trying to figure out the mysteries of the ages. He looks down at Shouyou with his head tilted so his dyed-silver hair falls across his eyes. (‘Samu thinks this makes him look charming. Atsumu maintains it makes him look like a try-hard, idol-wannabe douche. They fight about it maybe a lot.) “Yah know yah could do better, right?”</p><p>Atsumu bristles, glares, and opens his mouth to defend himself, but Shouyou—yet again—beats him to it. </p><p>“No, I couldn’t,” Shouyou says like he’s stating that water is in fact wet and fire is hot. Even Atsumu has to pause to stare down at him. As much as he likes to hear it, he knows it’s not true. (He just doesn’t need his brother to come out and <em>say</em> it, like the asshole he is.) “He promised to set for me. I beat him, and he promised to set for me. No asking, no begging, no nothing. He’s <em>mine</em>.”</p><p>That is … certainly a whole chain of logic that Atsumu’s not sure he’s got the mental facilities to follow. </p><p>‘Samu stares at him for a long moment and then snorts. “Congratulations, jackass,” he says, and Atsumu can hear the wonder under all the mockery, “yah found someone just as nuts as yah. It’s serendipity,” ‘Samu pauses to wave a hand between them, “no one else would’ve realized that was yer version of a proposal except someone as nuts as yah.”</p><p>“Fuck yerself!”</p><p>He’s tries to take a swipe at his brother, but Shouyou’s in the way and Kita catches his wrist anyway. “Yah do seem t’ be well suited for each other,” Kita notes. There’s a gleam in his captain’s eyes that Atsumu doesn’t trust at all. “Not everyone would be able t’ interpret yer meaning so well.”</p><p>Atsumu doesn’t know why anyone thinks that his brother or his captain are nice. They’re assholes. Everyone he knows are assholes.</p><p>He doesn’t know how to defend himself, and Shouyou’s hiccupping out little giggles around his big happy purrs anyway, so Atsumu just drops it with a glare to let everyone know he doesn’t appreciate being mocked like this. His brother laughs at him. Kita pats his arm in a vaguely patronizing manner and then floats away to go be terrifying at someone else. Probably their coaches. </p><p>Shouyou pulls away to look up at him, smiling so big and so bright that Atsumu might be in serious danger of going blind. “We do fit,” he says, happy and pleased with himself. “I’m very lucky to find you so soon, Atsumu-san.”</p><p>Welp. There it is. That’s his heart detonating into a million, gooey, pulpy pieces and then coming back together with Shouyou’s name written in every corner. “Yah shouldn’t be using ‘san’ with me,” he says instead of all the other things that crowd behind his teeth and threaten to choke him. Words too big and too earth shaking to be said in the middle of a dirty stadium hallway with roughly nine million curious volleyball playing scrubs staring at them like they’re an eight car pile up on the side of a six-lane freeway. “Just say Atsumu, Shouyou-kun.”</p><p>Shouyou’s smile gets impossibly bigger, brighter, and Atsumu suddenly understands all those metaphors of people being like a star, like the sun, because he’s pretty sure he’s found the center of his personal universe. “Then you shouldn’t use ‘kun’ with me, either, Atsumu.”</p><p>Atsumu goes hot all over in one huge full body flush. He’s a little amazed that steam doesn’t suddenly start pouring out his ears. </p><p>“Oh, this is disgusting,” Suna says, phone out and probably recording. “Get yourself together.” He locks eyes with Atsumu, a mean little smirk curling his lips. “Scrub.”</p><p>All of the warm, fuzzy feelings Atsumu’d been feeling towards his team instantly evaporate. “Shouyou,” he says carefully, nice and slow so Suna knows he should probably run now. “I need yah t’ let go a’ me so I can murder my teammate. Just real quick.”</p><p>Shouyou thwaps him against his stomach with one hand. “No murdering your teammates,” he scolds. “You need them to play and you said you’d play against me in Nationals next year.”</p><p>“Oh god,” Aran says in a faint, horror struck voice as he comes up to stand next to Suna who is <em>definitely</em> filming everything with a look of intense glee, “now there’s two a’ them. We’ve made a mistake.”</p><p>“I’ve been sayin’ that since the day he came outta the womb.”</p><p>“Yah came out of the womb on the same day, yah scrub!”</p><p>“One full hour earlier, ‘cause yer late t’ everything, even bein’ born!”</p><p>Shouyou hooks his arms around Atsumu’s waist and drags him backwards as Aran fits a hand over ‘Samu’s mouth to keep him from saying anything else that makes Atsumu want to murder him. They growl at each other—instincts, bystanders, fresh mating marks utterly forgotten in the need to commit fratricide. He can feel Shouyou laughing against him, his face buried against Atsumu’s ribs, and while the sound of Shouyou’s laughter is hands down the most adorable thing he’s ever heard, he’s utterly honest in his intent to messily murder his twin and leave the body in a ditch.</p><p>A sharp clap drags everyone’s attention back to Kita. He eyes all of them with a faint expression of exasperation and then sighs. “All right,” he says, calm like he’s explaining a new training regime, “yah and Shouyou-kun are gonna go to a heat facility until yah get this—” Kita makes a gesture that encompasses the entirety of Atsumu and Shouyou situation “—under control.”</p><p>Shouyou huddles up against him, small and chagrined, like he could have somehow staved off presentation and his heat through sheer will power. Atsumu runs a careful hand down his back and not quite glares at Kita. </p><p>“Why?” asks a voice that Atsumu doesn’t recognize. “They seem to be acting totally normal?”</p><p>His team parts around a delicate little blonde with huge blue eyes. She squeaks when they all turn to consider her, tips of her ears going red. </p><p>Kita holds a hand out to her, ever courteous, and she considers it for a moment before taking it, letting him pull her into his field of cool control. Atsumu tries to hide his snickers in Shouyou’s hair as the girl’s eyes manage to grow still bigger even as her shoulders relax. He wonders if the little baby beta had ever been around a beta like Kita—one capable of using their pheromones like a hammer to beat misbehaving alphas into line.</p><p>“Right now, they are under the influence of a beta’s calming pheromones,” Kita explains gently. The girl’s mouth pops open into a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. Figures no one had ever explained to her just how terrifying a beta in control of themselves could be. And there’s no beta more competent than Kita. “I have scent marked both of them, which is currently overriding their normal pheromone production and instinctual response, but it won’t last.”</p><p>“I, uh,” the girl stares up at Kita like she’s having several revelations at once and maybe a whole ass existential crisis besides, “I didn’t know we can do that.”</p><p>“You have to be very calm—controlled,” Kita says. He taps her chest, right on her sternum. “You must keep a very still point within yourself.” He tosses a look at all of them, and Atsumu gets the impression that he’s smirking, just a little. “Because they certainly can’t.”</p><p>“Hey!” Both his brother and Aran squawk in unison, as they always do when presented with the idea that they might not have perfect control over their emotions. Suna just rolls his eyes. </p><p>“Well,” the girl says with a quavering little voice. “<em>I’m</em> not very calm. Not normally.”</p><p>Kita considers for so long that <em>Atsumu</em> squirms, but that tiny blonde just stares up at his captain, apparently content to wait forever for his response. What is it about Karasuno, Atsumu wonders, that it can produce these surprising little pint-sized badasses? </p><p>“Yah have beta senpai, don’t yah?” Kita asks with that particular tone that suggests he’s about to get very judgmental.</p><p>Shouyou snorts softly against Atsumu’s chest, like he knows the answer to that question and it’s not gonna be any answer that Kita likes.</p><p>The little blonde makes a face that wants to be a grimace when it grows up, but she’s being way too polite to her seniors to let the expression fully bloom. “Asahi-senpai is … not, erm,” she falters and then shoots a look at Shouyou, who shrugs at her. She sighs. “Asahi-senpai is our ace,” she says valiantly, like she’s trying to explain something without actually spitting out the words. “And very important to our team, but. Um.”</p><p>“Oh god,” Suna says with vicious delight. “He’s like Bokuto and he’s a <em>beta</em>.”</p><p>Both the little blonde and Shouyou bristle up like offended kittens. So cute! </p><p>“He is not <em>loud</em> like Bokuto-senpai,” the blonde denies.</p><p>“Bokuto-senpai isn’t loud,” Shouyou denies, glaring at her. “He’s just excited.”</p><p>She gives Shouyou a deeply unimpressed look. “He forgot how to do a cross in the middle of our practice matches because he was depressed. He made Akaashi-senpai do all kinds of work to get him back on track. Asahi-senpai has never done <em>that</em>.”</p><p>“Yachi-chan,” Shouyou whines.</p><p>Aran carefully hides a laugh behind one hand. Osamu shoots Atsumu a look right at the same time that Atsumu goes to give him a side-eye and they both burst into mean little snickers. Even Kita looks fondly amused for a moment.</p><p>“If you had to say, Yachi-chan,” Kita interjects before the pair of Karasuno first years can devolve into their version of bickering—over their favorite senpai, so adorable, why aren’t the Inarizaki first years this cute? He’ll have to raze Riseki on that, Atsumu deserves cute kouhai—and their attention snaps back to him like magnets to a steel pole. “Who is the emotional center of your team?”</p><p>Yachi-chan blinks, looks up at the ceiling in the thought, and makes a little sound of distress. </p><p>“Suga-senpai,” Shouyou suggests. He turns himself around so his back is pressed against Atsumu’s chest, and wraps Atsumu’s arms around himself, like he can’t stand to be outside the circle of Atsumu’s arms. Every one of Atsumu’s instincts coo in delight. </p><p>Yachi-chan makes a little agreeing noise and then points at Shouyou. “And you.”</p><p>Shouyou dissolves into spluttering denials and a blush so deep that Atsumu is more than a little worried that he might spontaneously combust.</p><p>“A pair of omegas?” Suna asks with a nose wrinkle. “That’s, uh.” His voice petters out as both Karasuno first years pin him with twin still, unnerving stares.</p><p>“That’s what?” Shouyou asks quietly. </p><p>“Do you have a problem with omegas, senpai?” Yachi-chan adds. All the wavering, all the nervous cringing suddenly vanishing into the ether as she gears up to defend her teammates.</p><p>“What?” Suna stutters, suddenly realizing that he’s gone and stuck his foot right in it. The rest of the Inarizaki team—Atsumu included—snicker at him because they are, fundamentally, assholes. “No!”</p><p>“Shouyou-kun, Yachi-chan,” Kita sooths. “What Suna-kun meant to say, is that having omegas as the emotional center can be difficult because of their heats—so they are absent at least a few days every month and their emotions can be a little unsteady in the days leading up to that, ah, event.”</p><p>“Also, alphas can get a bit stupid when it comes to an omega that they like,” Suna says tartly, waving a hand at Atsumu like he illuminates the point perfectly. Atsumu flips him off.</p><p>“And sometimes,” ‘Samu says snidely, “they can get stupid over <em>betas</em> they like.”</p><p>Suna and his brother glare at each other. On any other day the way that his twin and Suna get defensive and weirdly territorial over their respective crushes on Kita would be hilarious to Atsumu—and if anyone asks if he <em>also</em> harbors a crush on his captain he will <em>lie</em>, thanks—but he can feel the edges of a rut rising to meet the persistent call Shouyou’s heat, even under the miles of freezing control Kita’s trying to exert. </p><p>Just like Kita’d said, they are running out of time.</p><p>“Can we do biology one-oh-one for baby betas another time?” Atsumu asks—he definitely does it whine it and ‘Samu can piss entirely off with his judgmental eye roll. </p><p>Yachi-chan squeaks some sort of apology that Atsumu doesn’t really listen to. His awareness is spinning down into tiny points—the feeling of Shouyou in his arms, the spiking of his candy store scent, the sudden, all encompassing need to drag Shouyou away to somewhere quiet and protected—shutting out anything else. Kita presses a hand against his cheek, but even a new wave of pheromones isn’t enough to fully drag him out of the haze of his instincts.</p><p>“Ah fuck,” says someone. “There he goes.”</p><p>“Less ‘running out of time’ and more ‘ran out of time,’ yeah?” says someone else. </p><p>There are hands on him, on his elbows, that don’t belong to his mate and he’s filled with the brief, but overwhelming need to break them. Atsumu shivers all over, muscles twitching like a nervous horse, as he tries to drag his instincts into a box and lock them there. He presses his face to Shouyou’s hair, hard, and tries to draw comfort from his nearness, his sweet scent. It doesn’t quite work. He’s too aware of everyone—of the threat of them. Now that the ice of Kita’s calm has broken, he can feel the flames of his rut licking up through the cracks. </p><p>A susurration of whispers washes over him—his team conferring with each other, quick and worried. Atsumu tries to pay attention, to pull meaning out of the sounds, but it’s like all of his higher cognitive functions have decided to abdicate to his hormones and his instincts at the worst goddamn time. </p><p>He startles when a pale little hand cups his cheek right where Kita’s hand had been. A new scent, like fresh grass and spring rain, surrounds him. Atsumu blinks down at the tiny blonde from Karasuno. She’s biting her lip, face screwed up in a sort of worried determination, but she’s got her wrist right next his nose. Her baby beta pheromones trying to reenforce the calm that Kita had dragged him into. She’s not as good at it. Her calm is like an early spring morning—fleeting, ephemeral—but it’s enough. Atsumu tips his face against her palm and lets her pull him into a new calm, as temporary as it might be.</p><p>“There yah go,” Kita says, right behind Yachi. “Just like that. Think ‘bout the things that make yah feel calm and then let yer scent wash over em. Yah got him.”</p><p>“Oh,” Yachi breathes. “I didn’t know I could do that.”</p><p>Atsumu drifts again, just a little, caught between the fleeting calm of Karasuno’s tiny manager, Shouyou’s sweet weight in his arms, and the remnants of Kita’s glacial composure. There are things that scrape uncomfortably against the edges of his awareness—Kageyama’s high, strident tone of aggravation, a moment when the Karasuno team attempts to shuffle Shouyou away from him before getting scattered by Yachi-chan’s even glare and his own rip-cord snarl, his twin’s voice raised in something that Atsumu would call fearful worry in any other human being. But nothing heavy enough to drag him out of the drifting sort of calm he’s been caught within. It’s like drifting on a riptide. Dragged further out to sea with each breath, but he doesn’t try to fight any of it.</p><p>He loses the plot again. Hands on his elbows, plucking at him in gentle urgency, get him to move down the concourse with Shouyou tucked up to his side. There’s a brief moment when someone attempts to pull Shouyou out of the circle of his arms and he reacts with an amount of violence that would normally alarm him. As it is, in the depths of Shouyou’s heat and his rut, Atsumu is pleased he had enough control not to break bones or rip delicate arteries apart. </p><p>The smell of spring rain and arctic wind surrounds him—coaxes him with soft voices and gentler hands to follow them, step by step, until they are outside, standing alone and free on one of the little concrete alcoves that surround the National Gymnasium. </p><p>“Just breathe,” says a voice—itself breathless with something that Atsumu would recognize, if he weren’t hormone addled and riding the high of being freshly marked, as terrified. But he’s not in any sort of possession of his wits, not at the moment, so he just follows instructions. </p><p>Tucks his nose against a pale little wrist and breathes in the scent of spring grass and budding flowers. He almost doesn’t register Shouyou starting to purr like a diesel engine getting kicked into third gear. Going from the overstimulation of the crowded concourse—every volleyball player in the country trying to press in close enough to see what’s happening—to the still, empty balcony over a forgotten parking lot is almost too much. But Shouyou presses up close to him. Crowds him up against one of the railings until all Atsumu can think of is <em>Shouyou</em>—Shouyou and his sunshine hair, his vicious determination, the brilliant gleam of his eyes when he’s made a decision. </p><p>That fresh springtime scent washes over them again. Cool and soft like the first tulips of the season. Something not meant to last more than a breath, a heartbeat, an indeterminate but fleeting moment of time. But it does last. From one long, heart rending moment to the next, Atsumu breathes in the smell of new spring and fresh dirt. </p><p>It cuts through even Shouyou’s intoxicatingly sweet scent. Like a lemon chaser after some sort of cloyingly sweet drink. </p><p>“There you are,” Yachi-chan says , utterly confident despite the complete nonsense of her words, “There you are.”</p><p>Shouyou whines at her. High and displeased, but in the wrong register to suggest any <em>real</em> distress, so Atsumu ignores it. Yachi-chan chirps out a disapproving little sound that has Shouyou bundling himself back into Atsumu’s arms, face smushed up against Atsumu’s pecs. Nice to know that they are all working from primordial, back-brainstem instincts and nothing even remotely rational.</p><p>He lets himself relax against the concrete railing above the parking lot, head emptying out until there’s nothing left beside the bone deep contentment of having his mate snuggled up close and their betas’ doing beta things. Nothing can be too bad, his inner alpha decides, if he’s got his mate and Kita and Kita’s new little protégé pressed in close and careful. Nothing he needs to worry about. </p><p>It’s not <em>great</em>. Because <em>great</em> would be having Shouyou all to himself in some quiet place so he can dedicate his entire being to taking his mate apart, piece by piece, until Shouyou’s nothing more than a boy shaped puddle of sated omega. But he’s willing to be patient. He can wait as long as both Kita and little Yachi-chan, far more steady than she originally looked, are there to be calm and collected for the both of them.</p><p>Time moves oddly again. Static and odd impressions of movement that resolve themselves into the insides of a car. Shouyou on his lap, his cold nose pressed right against the fresh mating mark, Kita on one side, talking in low tones, Yachi-chan on the other, vibrating like she’s about to take flight from nervous anxiety. </p><p>Atsumu lets his head list until it rests on top of Yachi-chan’s. She squeaks, goes still, and then, very carefully, presses one little hand against Atsumu’s cheek. Her touch is deliciously cool. It’s only after she’s touched him that he realizes he’s burning up from the inside out like there’s a conflagration in his chest threatening to eat every other part of him. </p><p>Shouyou’s no help. It feels as if the fever in Atsumu’s bones have found a twin in Shouyou’s veins. Both of them burning fit to set the world on fire. But Yachi-chan is as cool as spring rain and Kita’s serenity is a glacier-fed waterfall. Caught between the two of them, conflagration in his blood simmers instead of boils. He sighs—a ragged, shattered sound—and lets her hold him within the uncertain river of her calm. </p><p>He’s aware, distantly, of Kita and Yachi-chan talking around them. He doesn’t bother to try to pull meaning out of the sounds. Just lets them wash over him like a cold compress against a spring fever. He catches his name and Shouyou’s, but there’s no jagged edge of worry to their words. Just quiet curiosity and gentle reassurances. Shouyou chirps out a small, contented sound and Atsumu lets himself drift again.</p><p> Eventually the smell of spring rain recedes until Atsumu is uncomfortably aware of the anxious scent of the taxi driver and the sharp smell of an idling car. </p><p>“Atsumu-san,” says a careful voice. “We’re here.”</p><p>He lets his head roll against the seat back until he can focus on Karasuno’s little manager and just behind her, his captain. They stand with the car door open, waiting, expectant. It takes Shouyou sliding out of his arms, across the backseat, to stand on shaky legs to get Atsumu moving. Kita catches him, hands careful on his elbows, when he staggers to his feet.</p><p>“Where?” Atsumu blinks in surprise at his own voice. It’s a guttural, inhuman thing. Like he hasn’t spoken to another human being in a million years. He has to swallow hard, throat working around a sudden rasp, and tries again. “Where are we?”</p><p>Yachi-chan turns an immediate brilliant pink. “Um,” she says before sneaking a peak at Kita like she’s asking permission, or maybe just reassurance and, man, if Atsumu had just a little bit more clarity inside his head—not all of his hormones and instincts and a fresh mating bite turning his mind into so much addled mush—he’d find that cute as hell. “A, uh, heat facility.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p><em>Oh.</em>.</p><p>There’s only one reason you drag an alpha to a heat facility. Atsumu can feel his cheeks heat to the same rosy hue staining Yachi-chan’s. They stare at each other in mutual mortification. This is not at <em>all</em> the way he’d expected his day to go when woke up this morning.</p><p>“Arrangements have already been made,” Kita says with the same unflappable calm that he normally uses for telling his team their hotel arrangements—Atsumu and Osamu always bunking together because precisely no one else will put up with their shit—or maybe noting a change in their practice regime. Atsumu blinks at him. “We’ll collect you and Shouyou-kun once his heat has run its course.”</p><p>Shouyou makes a grumbling little noise. “It should be quick!” He declares, like he can force his own biology to obey him through sheer force of will. He waves one hand. “I’ll be able to play tomorrow, you’ll see, Yachi-chan!”</p><p>Yachi-chan makes a quiet, disbelieving little noise but doesn’t actually contradict him while Atsumu wonders exactly when he lost all control over his life. Shouyou scowls at both of them, clearly annoyed at their lack of faith in his declaration. But before he can complain, Kita’s quietly ushering them towards an unassuming building with a tempered glass front set back enough from the street for a well-groomed little garden. It looks peaceful. Tranquil. Atsumu’s pretty sure if he stops to think about why he’s here—here with Shouyou tucked up against his side like he’s always been there—he’ll throw up.</p><p>He balks at the doors, like a spooked horse, imagines his eyes showing whites all the way around. Yachi-chan and Kita confer for a moment—heads tip together, gold to silver—before Yachi-chan slips through the silvered glass doors. Probably off to do inscrutable beta things that actually keep the world running instead of being a massive walking dumpster fire of instinct and hormones. Kita just stands there, one door held open, waiting like he could wait until the end of time for Atsumu to make up his mind.</p><p>“Atsumu?” Shouyou’s peering up at him, liquid brown eyes all soft and concerned. Atsumu has no idea where he’s managed to scrape together his self-control, but he’s roughly a thousand times calmer than he’d been in that dingy little bathroom back at the stadium. Figures that Shouyou’d sort out how to pull himself together just as Atsumu’s feeling like he’s gonna fly apart at the seams. </p><p>“Are yah sure?” Atsumu asks because he has to know. He probably sounds like a broken fuckin’ record and a lame scrub besides, being all insecure and needy, but still. The question still needs asking.</p><p>Shouyou huffs at him before reaching up, deliberately slow to give Atsumu time to startle away from if he wants, to press callused fingertips against the ragged edge of the fresh mating bite. He grins when Atsumu shivers all over. “I’m <em>very</em> sure.”</p><p>He leans down to press his forehead against Shouyou’s, stealing a bit of time to try to drag the scattered pieces of himself together and scrape together some dignity. Shouyou tilts his head just in time to slot their mouths together like they’ve been made for each other. Then the bastard slips him a little tongue. Because of course he does.</p><p>“Shouyou!” Atsumu shoots backwards with one hand pressed against his mouth, eyes darting to where Kita waits for them, now very definitely looking amused.</p><p>His gremlin mate smirks back at him, all smugly pleased with himself. “We’ve done a lot more than <em>that</em> already,” he chirps. A look of pure deviousness slips over his features and Atsumu narrows his eyes as his well-tuned sensors for fuckery start going off. He knows when someone’s about to mess with him. He’s got a twin. “And you’re gonna do a whole lot more than that or this is gonna be a very frustrating time for both of us.”</p><p>Apparently, it is, in fact, possible for someone to blush so hard and so fast that they make themselves dizzy. Atsumu reels like he’s been slapped, face burning so hot you could probably cook okonomiyaki on his cheeks. </p><p>“<em>Shouyou!</em>” He is scandalized. Mortified. Maybe, also, a little turned on by Shouyou’s utter shamelessness. Atsumu’d kinda thought <em>he</em> was a shameless human being—he’d been told that by more than one adult in his life—but apparently, he (and everyone else) were very much mistaken because he’s now met the king of shamelessness and his name is Hinata Shouyou. He thinks he’s probably owed an apology somewhere.</p><p>“Atsumu is so cute!” Shouyou coos up at him, and then grabs his arm to drag him through the doors, his patience clearly gone. “But I am in heat and if you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going to maul someone.”</p><p>He’s pretty sure that he disassociates for just a moment as Shouyou bodily hauls him into the heat facility, past Kita—who might (??) be smirking (????) at him (<em>??????</em>)—to stand next to little Yachi-chan who smiles encouraging up at him. He tries to smile back but it kinda feels like his face just has some sort of localized seizure instead. She’s standing in front of a pair of beta nurses who look very kind and very calm. Like they’ve seen his precise type of freak out before and are unphased. It’s equal parts reassuring and terrifying. </p><p>“So,” says the shorter of the pair. Her hair is pulled up into a tidy bun and she’s got laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. She looks like someone’s mom. She maybe, kinda, looks like <em>his</em> mom. And Atsumu maybe, kinda, wants to fall into a hole and pull the ground in after him if she’s gonna be front and center to this whole mess. “This is them?”</p><p>Yachi-chan bobs a cute little bow. “Yes!” She chirps. “Thank you so much for finding space for them at such short notice.”</p><p>The taller one—she’s got silver threading through her dark hair and looks like she knits. Is it reassuring that she (maybe?) knits? Atsumu decides to be reassured. “Oh,” she says, with a grin that flashes dimples, “we’re well-versed with how to deal with sudden heats and all of their attendant, ah, difficulties.”</p><p>“He bit me,” Atsumu says. He means for it to come out as an informational sort of statement, because it seems like relevant information, but his voice goes up into a little lilt at the end. Atsumu cringes internally. That sounded … plaintive. Kinda whiny, maybe. Definitely not the way that an alpha in this situation should sound.</p><p>The shorter one with kind eyes and a no-nonsense attitude pats his arm. “It wouldn’t have taken if you weren’t amenable to it, dear heart.” He blinks at her, utterly baffled, while Shouyou preens. “That you’re so affected just signals how willing you are to be bonded.” Shouyou is <em>definitely</em> preening now. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t have taken no matter how many pheromones were being thrown around.”</p><p>“Oh,” Atsumu says like the intelligent person he absolutely is. </p><p>The nurse pats him on the arm again, looking a little amused—which is a look he’s been getting a <em>lot</em> from betas today and he thinks he should maybe be offended by this, but he’s honestly so far down his personal existential crisis rabbit hole that he can only sort of frown at her—and then turns to his two attendant betas. He also wants to bristle at the blatant dismissal, but really that’s just betas for you. </p><p>“They’ll be in good hands,” she says to Kita, who just nods seriously. “I trust your coaches have notified their respective guardians?”</p><p>Oh. Atsumu blinks as a whole new mountain of horror and terror presents itself. Oh <em>no</em>.</p><p>“We have,” Kita confirms, as placid as ever. Apparently, entirely content to ignore Atsumu’s whole ass mental breakdown at the idea of his dam—his very omega, very terrifying, very single-mother-because-his-bonded-alpha-turned-out-to-be-an-asshole dam—knowing about any of this. “I have the forms you requested digitally signed, if that’s acceptable?”</p><p>“They are,” the taller nurse says as she taps her phone to Kita’s. “We’re used to sudden emergencies like this here.”</p><p>“My dam’s gonna <em>kill me</em>,” Atsumu says to no one in particular. </p><p>Kita looks at him from the corner of his eyes. “Probably not, if you talk fast enough.”</p><p>The nurses and Yachi-chan all titter like Kita’s told a particularly cute joke and wasn’t just, you know, stating an objective fact.</p><p>Shouyou’s face has also gone worryingly pale. He grabs Atsumu’s arm and shakes him. Hard. “Never mind that!” He yelps, like Atsumu can at all ignore his impending death at the hands of his enraged mother. “<em>My</em> dam is gonna kill us.”</p><p>They stare at each other with matching <em>oh no!</em> expressions. </p><p>The sound of the nurses’ raucous laughter startles them both out of their mutual contemplation of their almost assured destruction at the hands of their respective dams—Atsumu’s dam definitely ascribed to the philosophy that because he brought the twins into the world, he was utterly justified in taking them right back out of it—and they stare, baffled, as the taller nurse reaches out to gently pat their heads.</p><p>“Your dams won’t kill you,” she says in a reassuring tone. “This isn’t as uncommon as you think. We’ll get you through this. You’ll see.”</p><p>Shouyou’s giving both nurses a still, flinty-eyed sort of glare. “I still need him to knot me so I can play tomorrow,” he says like this is a reasonable sort of thing that reasonable sorts of people say. “I <em>need</em> it.”</p><p>Okay. Well. That statement is probably going to feature front and center of most of Atsumu’s fantasies from here until his dying day—which might, in fact, be today out of sheer mortification—but he kinda needs Shouyou to stop saying things like that too or he’s going to die of a heart attack before they get anywhere close to getting down and dirty.</p><p>The nurses exchange a look that Atsumu can’t even begin to interpret but he reaches out and drags Shouyou against him on reflex. Shouyou’s started up his chainsaw, guttural rattle of a growl. At this point Atsumu’s a goddamned connoisseur of Shouyou growls—this one means he’s sensed an immediate obstacle to what he wants and he’s maybe considering violence to remove it. His mate chirps out a startled little sound when Atsumu hauls him back into the cage of his arms, but doesn’t fight him. In fact, Shouyou goes boneless and pliant against him, all happy omega, the second Atsumu wraps his arms around him.</p><p>He wants to be offended when Yachi-chan shifts to hide her giggles against Kita’s shoulder, but he’s too focused on the tense bundle of irritated omega in his arms. Atsumu has no idea why people think that omegas are the submissive, gentle secondary gender when Shouyou is clearly one shuddering breath away from wholescale violence if he doesn’t get what he wants.</p><p>And what he wants, apparently, is <em>Atsumu</em>. Which is a whole mind-fuck unto itself.</p><p>“Will you chill?” He says into the riot of orange hair. “<em>Fuck.</em>”</p><p>Shouyou makes a sound that Atsumu can’t quite translate. Something that maybe wants to be laugh when it grows up but got mugged for all its lunch money by irritation and a sort of simmering frustration. “My point exactly,” his mate says. “<em>Fuck</em>.”</p><p>As one the nurses hold their hands up in that universal ‘oh god don’t kill anyone’ gesture that Atsumu’s getting way more experience with than he’d really like. For a second he’s not sure if they are making the gesture at him or at Shouyou before it hits him that, oh god oh fuck, no they are definitely doing it towards Shouyou. Oh hell.</p><p>“We won’t separate you,” says the taller nurse. If Atsumu hadn’t been pheromone whammied by both Kita and now little Yachi-chan the impressive flood of calming scent flooding out of the beta nurses would have totally had him contemplating his third eye or some other yoga shit. But he’s at least two hours past saturation point so he just sort of frowns at them. Shouyou’s rattling growl kicks back up. Clearly, he’s way past his saturation point too. Great.</p><p>“Just so Shouyou doesn’t murder anyone,” he says, completely ignoring the way his voice comes out in a funny, rasping pitch, “maybe just show us to a … um.” He has to close his eyes and grab his courage with both hands to finish this sentence. “Heat room.”</p><p>“Of course,” says the taller nurse. Did they ever tell him their names? Did he forget? Time is moving in strange ways again. “We just need a couple of tests for medical,” Shouyou’s growl kicks up again until Atsumu cuddles him harder against his chest, effectively crushing his mate against him until his growls petter out into little hiccupping sounds of frustration. The nurses eye the pair of them with an expression he chooses not to interrupt. “You can, of course, keep each other company.”</p><p>Things move oddly again after that. He’s got a nose full of Shouyou’s heat-spiked scent, and once Kita and Yachi-chan vanish to places unknown, no beta-induced calm. He becomes aware of the thin, fleeting edges of things. The contemplative glint of Shouyou’s eyes when the nurses drag him through a series of exams. The way Shouyou’s scent seems to cling to him like a fine film of fragrance oil on bath water. The way his own scent spikes with anxiety and aggression any time he can’t see exactly where Shouyou is.</p><p><em>Oh</em>, he thinks—sort of muted and distant from himself, <em>I am so owned.</em> And he is, not even a little strangely, completely fine with that. </p><p>He catches the wrist of one of the nurses, momentarily stunned at how fragile it is in his hand. Her pulse beats against his fingers hummingbird quick. Part of him, the part not currently ruled by his instincts and Shouyou’s demands beating against his brainstem, worries over the way she tenses in his hold, tries to curl away from him. He loosens his grip but doesn’t let her go.</p><p>“He can’t get pregnant,” he tells her, because he doesn’t know how to else to form the words.</p><p>She blinks at him. Her face crumples into confusion. “Your mate is perfectly healthy,” she says. She’s not one of the ones that met him with Kita and Yachi-chan. She’s younger, nervous. It makes his stomach roil to think that he’s making her so uncomfortable, but he can’t let this go. “He’ll be fine—”</p><p>Her voice cuts off like a recording being shut off when he shakes her again. “He <em>can’t</em> get pregnant.”</p><p>“Eline,” a voice that Atsumu recognizes but can’t place interjects. “Go file the paperwork for this pair, if you would?”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>Eline, the little beta nurse he’s got pinned against the wall—and when did that happen? Atsumu doesn’t know—slithers out of his hold and bolts. Atsumu pulls his hand back and cuddles it against his chest. He’s not sure he knows what happened, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t like it. “What was—” He gestures futilely towards where the younger (youngest?) nurse had fled. “What?”</p><p>“She’s new,” says the nurse Atsumu knows—the short one with the messy bun and wicked eyeliner. “She’ll learn.”</p><p>For a moment he wants to press—to figure out why any of this matters at all—but the thought leaves him the second Shouyou walks back into the room from wherever the nurses had herded him off to, rubbing his shoulder. He’s got a petulant twist to his mouth. “They <em>shot</em> me,” he announces to the room at large. </p><p>Atsumu’s at his side so fast for a second he thinks he’s figured out how to teleport. He runs his hands all over Shouyou, checking for injury, while Shouyou stares at him with an expression of utter bafflement and the nurses snicker. “You’re fine?” He says, asks, kind of demands. “You’re not hurt.”</p><p>Shouyou blinks up at him.</p><p>“You can’t say things like you just did,” says the tall nurse with kind eyes. She baps Shouyou gently with her clipboard and Atsumu, very briefly, considers pitching a whole ass, violent fit about this but Shouyou just rolls his eyes and pouts. “Alphas are sensitive to the wellbeing of their mates. <em>Especially</em> when said mate is in heat.”</p><p>“Double that when they’re freshly bonded,” another nurse Atsumu doesn’t know.</p><p>“You have to be careful with them, dear heart,” says the older nurse with the messy bun. “They’re delicate.”</p><p>Atsumu tries to glare at all of them because he’s pretty sure he’s never been described as <em>delicate</em> a day in his life. In fact, he’s almost entirely certain that alphas are supposed to be, like, the exact opposite of delicate. But clearly none of these beta nurses nor his gremlin of a mate have gotten that memo because they all turn to give him indulgent looks of varying degrees.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Atsumu,” his mate says with an insulting amount of sincerity. “I didn’t mean to alarm you.”</p><p>Atsumu wants to argue that he wasn’t <em>alarmed</em>, thanks, just maybe a little worried? Concerned? Something. Look. He’s got every right to be alarmed if he wants to be when his mate walks into a room complaining about getting <em>shot</em>. That’s an alarming sort of statement to be making. </p><p>… Yeah, okay, Atsumu might not be responding to things rationally right now but he really doesn’t think it’s his fault. </p><p>“It’s just an emergency birth control shot,” one of the nurses says, frowning playfully at Shouyou. “Stop being a big baby about it.”</p><p><em>Oh</em>.  That’s … yeah, that’s a good thing. That’s exactly the thing that needed to happen that he’d been trying to convey to the other little nurse he’d accidentally terrorized. “Oh,” he says—he’s really doing great at sounding like an intelligent human being in front of these nurses. He’s really not doing much to help combat the stereotypes of alphas they seem to be running off of. “That’s good.”</p><p>Shouyou gives him a petulant look that Atsumu really doesn’t understand. Shouyou can’t play volleyball if Atsumu knocks him up—and Atsumu has to ruthlessly stomps every feral alpha instinct in his head that really <em>likes</em> that idea because holy shit not the god damn time and his dam would murder him and leave his corpse as a warning to other stupid alphas—and the whole point of this is Shouyou playing volleyball. </p><p>“Yah can’t play volleyball knocked up,” he says in what he thinks is a perfectly reasonable tone. All the nurses, as one, crack up when Shouyou gives him a deeply contemplative look.</p><p>“That’s true,” Shouyou says. “And we have time anyway. We can do that later.”</p><p>Atsumu’s head short circuits around that statement so badly that he pretty much loses the entire plot between Shouyou blithely stating his <em>intentions</em> and them getting hustled into a quiet room decorated in soothing, inoffensive colours. There’s a pile of soft blankets, fuzzy pillows, and a really impressive stack of fresh sheets in one corner, a little alcove leading to a bathroom in another, but the majority of the room is dedicated to a sunken pit of soft bedding large enough to comfortably fit his entire team.</p><p>It takes his brain to helpfully inform him that this is a <em>heat</em> alcove. Something that makes it easier for an omega to build a nest. And then he very carefully stops thinking along those lines because otherwise he’s pretty sure he’s gonna spontaneously combust. </p><p>Shouyou immediately trots over to the pile of what’s clearly intended to be <em>nesting</em> materials and starts investigating them with interest. Atsumu follows after him because he honestly doesn’t know what else to do with himself. Or, well, his hormones are providing him with many, many things he could be doing—pining Shouyou to the bed and finding all the ways he can make Shouyou writhe being top among them—but his ‘inner alpha’ (and, man, is that a term he’d always thought was bullshit until Shouyou’d decided to reorder his personal biology) is pretty content to follow along in his mate’s wake.</p><p>He watches, bemused, as Shouyou rummages around the carefully organized pile of nesting materials, selecting blankets and pillows on some inscrutable metric. One blanket gets rejected but its twin—as far as Atsumu can tell—gets carefully included in the nest wall. Pillows are tested, some discarded, some shoved into the nest wall. Shouyou eyes his work, hums thoughtfully, and then strips off his shirt to add it to his masterpiece. </p><p>There’s a brief moment where Atsumu thinks his control is going to finally snap after seeing all that pale golden skin and slender muscle finally revealed, but Shouyou’s spinning back towards him, crowding into his space before he can even gather enough coherent thought to act on all his sudden desire. </p><p>“Give me your shirt,” Shouyou demands, hands already tugging at Atsumu’s jacket and jersey.</p><p>Atsumu makes an entirely understandable noise of utter confusion as Shouyou yanks him out of his warmup jacket. Calloused hands skim up his sides, quick and certain, in a way that makes all of his nerve endings come alive and his head fill with the sudden need to press their bare skin together until Shouyou can think of nothing but <em>him</em>. Shouyou grins at him, like he can hear that thought. And kisses him quick and filthy, before trotting back to his half-completed nest with his prizes.</p><p>“They smell like you,” he explains as he tucks both jacket and jersey into a carefully constructed fort wall. “I really wanted something of Yachi-chan’s too,” Shouyou pauses, thoughtful, and adds, “and Kita-senpai’s, but they left too fast.” He gives a careless little shrug. “Next time.” His mate ignores the way the off hand, casual ‘next time’ sends Atsumu reeling and kicks out of his shorts to hop, gloriously naked into the middle of the nest. “Okay,” Shouyou chirps, all bright and happy. “Come here.”</p><p>Atsumu blinks at him before staggering over to him until Shouyou’s scowl stops him.</p><p>“You are not coming into my nest with your shoes on, what did your dam teach you?” Shouyou demands. </p><p>What did his dam teach him, Atsumu wonders a little hysterically, he’s pretty sure not a single lesson included <em>heat etiquette</em>. But he moves with alacrity to obey his mate. The interested, thoughtful little sound Shouyou makes when he finally manages to strip down, flush crawling all the way down his chest and cock already starting to plump up, goes a long way to settling Atsumu’s nerves. He pauses to preen, just a little, as Shouyou’s gaze catalogues all of him.</p><p>He’s gonna ask if Shouyou likes what he sees when Shouyou rumbles out a purr of pure omega pleasure and reaches both hands out to him, grabby, and demands: “Come <em>here</em>.”</p><p>Atsumu’s not sure he’s ever moved so fast in his entire life.</p><p>The bedding is soft around him and the nest walls smell of him and Shouyou and the soft comfortable scent of fresh laundry. He pins Shouyou underneath him, dragging his mouth over Shouyou’s scent gland in an open-mouthed kiss—scenting him, latching onto Shouyou’s throat to swallow down that sticky, candy sweet scent until it’s all he can taste. Rattles out a rough, rasping growl that he’s never made before in his entire life. The growl of an alpha that’s found their mate and has no intention of letting go.  He cages Shouyou underneath him, between his arms and legs, like Shouyou is something that can be caught, can be <em>contained</em>.</p><p>And Shouyou. </p><p>Shouyou <em>lets</em> him.</p><p>Goes pliant and dazed under Atsumu’s weight bearing him down into bedding. Slides his hands, so much smaller than he ever seems—Shouyou always taking up every part of the room with his presence and his energy—along Atsumu’s back to drag him down, pressing him against Shouyou even <em>harder</em>, as if Shouyou can’t stand the idea of any space between them. As if he’ll die without Atsumu’s skin moving against his, slick with their sweat and longing.</p><p>“Mine,” Shouyou croons as sweet and dark as fresh molasses. “<em>Mine</em>.”</p><p>“Yours,” Atsumu answers like it’s being ripped out of him. Like his vocal cords had been designed to say these exact words in this precise moment. “Yours.”</p><p>He kisses Shouyou as deep and possessive as he’s wanted since the very first time he’d watched Shouyou rocket from one side of a court to another in an unreal, inhuman broad attack. He grinds down against Shouyou, dragging their cocks together and a slow, languorous kind of friction that makes them both pant mindlessly, and then croons, low and sweet: “My sweet omega, all mine.”</p><p>Shouyou tilts his chin up, exposing the perfect column of his throat, and whines deep in his chest. What is Atsumu supposed to do except leave livid bruises up the perfect expanse of Shouyou’s neck to let everyone and anyone know that this is Atsumu’s and he is never going to let Shouyou go? You’ll have to kill him first to stop him. He leaves a line of vivid purple bruises up Shouyou’s throat. Each mark a perfect imprint of Atsumu’s mouth.</p><p>Shouyou plants his nails against Astumu’s shoulders and drags them down, slow and hard enough to draw blood. The feel of it, the possessiveness of it, sets off an entirely new set of fireworks inside of Atsumu’s head that he has a hard time controlling. He presses his face against the crook of Shouyou’s neck and breathes hard against the impulse to just take and take and <em>take</em> until there’s nothing left of Shouyou to give. He’s always been greedy—it’s a core part of his personality that he accepts—but even this level of selfish avarice scares him.</p><p>“Let go,” Shouyou murmurs low and sweet and enticing. Atsumu shudders all over, control breaking like slowly cracking glacier ice over a quick running river, at the words. “You can let go now.”</p><p>Calloused hands with rough nails fist themselves in Atsumu’s hair and drag him up so he’s staring straight into Shouyou’s dark gaze—pupils entirely blown out by his heat—and he can’t get away, not from that unforgiving grip. Shouyou shakes him by his grip in the hair, just a little, and repeats: “Let. Go.”</p><p>What else is Atsumu supposed to do, except obey his mate?</p><p>So, he does. Lets go of the fragments of control he’s been using to force himself to be a semi-sane and rational human being (or at least fake it) and lets all the instincts and repressed desires bubble up to the surface and overwhelm his insecurities and fears. He fits his mouth to Shouyou’s, eager and overwhelming, to swallow down all his delighted noises. Sucks on Shouyou’s tongue until he’s squirming underneath him, impatient and needy, before burying one hand in that riot of orange curls and dragging his head back so Atsumu can leave another line of marks—deep purple against his golden skin—down the other side of his throat. </p><p>Shouyou whines, sweet and encouraging, as Atsumu starts working his way down Shouyou’s body—all soft skin over hard muscles. He keeps one hand fisted in Shouyou’s hair, dragging his head back and to the side as Atsumu finds every place along Shouyou’s throat and shoulders that make him whine and beg for more.</p><p>“Sensitive,” he comments, like he has any goddamn basis of comparison.</p><p>“I’m in <em>heat</em>,” Shouyou growls, all petulant and whiny in the very best ways. “Of course, I’m--<em>nnngh</em>.”</p><p>Atsumu effectively cuts off that line of thought for Shouyou—and any line of thought, really—by pressing his mouth to Shouyou’s nipple and sucking until Shouyou arches up off the bed, panting and desperate. He rolls that little bud in his mouth, flicking his tongue against like it’s a hard candy, and grins against Shouyou’s skin at the way he whines and writhes. Keeping one hand fisted hard in Shouyou’s hair, anchoring him to the bed just to prove he can, he flicks Shouyou’s neglected nipple with his free hand until it too is a hard, throbbing bud of pure sensation.</p><p>He lets go of Shouyou’s nipple with an obscene pop, just to watch his mate pant all glassy-eyed and dazed, before switching to his other nipple to give it the same rough treatment. Shouyou whines—delightfully incoherent and desperate—as Atsumu plays with his chest like it’s a new instrument that he’s determined to learn. </p><p>Atsumu revels in the sounds he can drag from Shouyou. The high, breathy gasps when he scrapes the edge of his teeth against Shouyou’s swollen nipples. The low, guttural groans that rip out of Shouyou’s throat when Atsumu rolls his hips hard and insistent against Shouyou. The pitiful, whines when Atsumu drags his free hand down Shouyou’s side to wrap around his cock, all hot and leaking, and stokes him lazily. </p><p>He’s got Shouyou right where he wants him—between his thighs, under his weight, mewling with each rough kiss—and he’s got no interest in doing anything other than taking his sweet time.</p><p>“At--<em>ah</em>--tsumu,” Shouyou tries to say, voice shattering into hitching little gasps around the syllables of Atsumu’s name. “<em>Please.</em>”</p><p>“Please what?” Atsumu asks innocently, like he’s not currently gently jerking off his mate too slow and without enough friction to be anywhere near satisfying. </p><p>Shouyou stares back up at him, honey brown eyes gone black with wanting, and hiccups out another high, needy sound. Atsumu wants to steal Suna’s phone and record every noise, every pathetic plea, to play back to himself every night like some kind of perverted lullaby. He’s almost entirely certain that if he doesn’t hear these noises every day for the rest of his life, he will actually die. </p><p>“Yah gotta tell me what yah want, Shouyou,” Atsumu croons—a gentle sort of sadistic pleasure washes over him as he watches Shouyou writhe against the sheets, words clearly a great hardship. “I’ll give yah everything yah want, but yah gotta ask.”</p><p>Shouyou seems utterly incapable of doing anything other than shaking and whining, but he does a delightful amount of both. Atsumu hides the grin that spreads over his face, wickedly gleeful, against Shouyou’s neck to mouth sweetly against Shouyou’s scent gland. Shouyou fists both his hands in Atsumu’s hair and tugs, <em>hard</em> down his body. And never let it be said that Atsumu can’t take direction. </p><p>He lets Shouyou drag him down that lithe, writhing body by a double grip in his hair. Drags his mouth wet and sloppy over Shouyou’s abs, the sick cut of his hips, down to his hard little cock leaking against his hip. The sound Shouyou makes when Atsumu swallows him down is as sweet as the stunned silence that comes after his very best service ace—a high, almost wounded whine of desperation. He kinda wants to pull off and ask if Shouyou likes that, likes being buried so deep in Atsumu’s mouth he’s brushing against the back of Atsumu’s throat with each needy roll of his hips. (And thank the gods that Atsumu’s got no gag reflex to speak off. Never thought he’d get to test it quite like this, but he is <em>not</em> complaining.) But Shouyou’s grip is iron, unforgiving and unrelenting, and Atsumu is going precisely nowhere except where Shouyou wants him.</p><p>“Ats—<em>ah, ah</em>—Atsumu!” Shouyou cries in a perfect pitch of needy and demanding. “Like that, oh <em>fuck!</em> Just like that.”</p><p>Atsumu swallows hard around Shouyou, eager to show off what few tricks he’s got and is gratified straight down to his bones by the way Shouyou’s hands spasm in his hair and his thighs tremble. He can tell his mate—and there’s a thought that sends a gleeful thrill all over, this is his <em>mate</em> he’s making cry and unravel so sweetly—is one shuddering breath from falling to pieces.</p><p>Sliding both hands down Shouyou’s heaving sides, Atsumu lets him take what he wants from his mouth—needy little rolls of his hips almost choking him and driving the breath from him in slick, wet hitches. But he’s got an idea for how to make Shouyou completely shatter and he’s not gonna get distracted.</p><p>The way Shouyou’s breath hitches into a high little gasp when he slides two fingers, cautious and curious, into Shouyou’s slit makes Atsumu moan around his cock. The grip in his hair goes so tight it’s almost on the wrong side of pain, and, <em>fuck</em>, Shouyou’s so wet slick slides down his fingers to his wrist. He lets Shouyou shove him so far down his cock it threatens to suffocate him while he pumps two fingers into him, reveling in the obscene sound it makes. The moan that tears its way out of Shouyou’s throat when he crooks his fingers just <em>so</em> sends lightning straight down Atsumu’s spine to settle low and throbbing in his cock. Shouyou writhes underneath him, hands clenching and unclenching in his hair, as Atsumu carefully rubs circles around the spot that makes his mate sob.</p><p>“I’m gonna cum,” Shouyou gasps—voice pitched high and desperate, and if he weren’t currently the one making Shouyou go mindless with pleasure Atsumu wouldn’t even recognize that whimpering, breathless tone as his mate. But he <em>is</em> and it’s the best thing he’s ever done in his <em>life</em>. Shouyou tugs on his hair, desperate, and Atsumu ignores him. “Atsumu, Atsumu, stop. Sta—ah, <em>ah!</em>—stop! I’ll, ungh, <em>fuck!</em>”</p><p>Atsumu finds himself hunching up over Shouyou—fingers working in a steady, ruthless rhythm as he swallows around Shouyou’s cock—as Shouyou comes with a choked off wail. Atsumu shudders, overwhelmed and helpless, as Shouyou pulls his hair as he comes straight down Atsumu’s throat. When he finally pulls off Shouyou’s cock with an obscene pop of his lips, he has to rest his head against Shouyou’s hip and breathe hard through the surge of arousal that shoots through him, pooling low and hot in his belly. Shouyou’s cunt is still clenching hard around his fingers as the aftershocks of his orgasm shakes him.</p><p>Shouyou’s scent is thick and cloying, a candy store in the middle of July, and Atsumu tilts his head so he can mouth at the soft skin of Shouyou’s inner thigh. He’s riding the dizzying high of making his mate come with nothing but his fingers and mouth. He wants, desperately, to see if he can do it again, and again, and <em>again</em>. But he’s pretty sure Shouyou will kick him the head if he tries again so soon.</p><p>Just to test he licks a sloppy stripe up Shouyou’s softening cock to suck gently at the head as he moves his fingers in slow circles around that spot deep in Shouyou that makes his mate shudder and squirm. </p><p>He’s rewarded with a low, guttural groan and fingers clutching his jaw to drag him up Shouyou’s body to a messy, exhausted kiss. He grins into the kiss before pulling away. “And here I thought omegas were supposed to be insatiable in their heat,” he says with a disgusting amount of smugness. “Where’s all your stamina now, Shouyou?”</p><p>There’s a soft, spluttering noise of outrage before Shouyou’s leveraging himself to flip them over—still riding Atsumu’s fingers in slow, lazy circles of his hips—to glower down at Atsumu. There’s a hazy to his honey brown eyes, and they can’t quite focus, but indignation puts an adorable pout on his mate’s face and a high, ruddy flush across his cheeks. </p><p>“I’ll show you <em>stamina</em>,” Shouyou growls at him, like that makes a lick of sense. But he’s grabbing at Atsumu’s cock, using his own slick to make it wet and slippery, and Atsumu can’t possibly string the words together to refute him. Shouyou manages to totter up onto his knees, every inch of him shaking with aftershocks and overstimulation, to position the head of Atsumu’s cock right at his slick entrance. Atsumu’s hands snap to Shouyou’s hips, dizzy with what Shouyou’s about to do. He’s pretty sure he gasps Shouyou’s name in an entirely pathetic manner, but Shouyou doesn’t seem to hear him, too lost in the haze of his heat, about to get what his body has been begging for. Shouyou doesn’t quite sneer at him, but it’s close and the expression sends adrenaline zinging all through Atsumu’s body. “Like you have stamina to keep up with <em>me</em>.”</p><p>Then he starts to sink down, down, <em>down</em> onto Atsumu’s cock.</p><p>It’s so good Atsumu’s pretty sure he’s dying. He’s definitely babbling. Groaning praises and begging in a voice so breathlessly slutty he’d be ashamed of it if he had the two brain cells to rub together. </p><p>“<em>Nnngh</em>—fuck, <em>fuck</em>, fuck, <em>big</em>," Shouyou gasps, all panting and determined. </p><p>The way Shouyou moans and cries as he carefully takes inch after inch of Atsumu’s cock would honestly be the biggest boost to his ego that Atsumu has ever received in his entire <em>life</em>, but he’s too busy losing his mind at the feeling of Shouyou sinking, wet and slick and so godsdamned hot, over his cock that he can barely register the sounds. When Shouyou’s finally taken him to the hilt, sitting pretty on Atsumu’s hips—his chest heaving, sweat gleaming on his skin so he’s painted gold in the dying afternoon light—they can only stare at each other, stunned stupid with the magnitude of what they’ve done.</p><p>Or maybe that’s just Atsumu, because Shouyou recovers himself enough to plant one hand smack in the middle of Atsumu’s chest to push himself up an agonizingly slow couple of inches, the glide filthy wet with slick, only to sink back down with an overwhelmed little chirp. Atsumu can’t <em>think</em> around the way Shouyou’s mouth pops open in an obscene ‘o’ of pleasure as he starts to find his rhythm. The only sound between them is the slick, wet sound of Shouyou riding Atsumu’s cock like he owns it. Like Atsumu has only ever existed for Shouyou to take his pleasure from. </p><p>Atsumu has half a mind to help Shouyou ride him, to drag him up and down his cock like a toy made just for him, but Shouyou grabs Atsumu’s outstretched hands and plants them against his chest, fingers right at Shouyou’s puffy, swollen nipples.</p><p>Well. That’s certainly not an invitation Atsumu is going to turn down. He obligingly plucks at Shouyou’s nipples, pulling them so Shouyou arches up in a pretty bow, whining at the pleasure-pain. Pinches Shouyou’s nipples tight and uses that hold to drag him down into a filthy, sloppy kiss that Shouyou can only keen into. He bites down onto Shouyou’s bottom lip before sucking on his tongue until Shouyou collapses onto his chest, dazed. </p><p>“There yah go, sweetheart,” Atsumu croons. He grips Shouyou’s hips hard, plants his feet, and then <em>snaps</em> his hips hard enough to make Shouyou bounce in his grip. “Yah wanted a ride, yeah?”</p><p>Shouyou mutters something against Atsumu’s throat that breaks into a stuttering sob. </p><p>“Yeah,” Atsumu says sweet as anything, agreeing to whatever nonsense had just bubbled out of Shouyou’s mouth. “Yeah, yah did.”</p><p>With Shouyou gasping at every thrust, mewling at each drag of Atsumu’s cock in and out of him, all Atsumu can do is grin—grin and surrender to the instincts that demand he pin this spitfire omega, <em>his</em> omega, and pound into him until he’s fucked full and stupid and happy. </p><p>He gets one hand underneath himself, and while Shouyou is panting at each hard snap of his hips, flips them so Shouyou is spread out underneath him. Shouyou whines, presses one hand against Atsumu’s shoulder like he wants to flip them back around, but Atsumu grabs one of Shouyou’s legs and props it up against his shoulder, spreading him wide. </p><p>Wrapping one hand around Shouyou’s thigh to keep it anchored against his chest, Atsumu bends him in half and <em>drives</em> into him until Shouyou’s clutching at his shoulders, mewling and begging with words that barely sound like words anymore. Gets one hand under Shouyou’s hips to lift him just enough that he’s pounding right into that spot that has Shouyou’s eyes rolling back into his head, voice shattering into meaningless, hiccupping noises of pleasure. Tears spring up in the corners of Shouyou’s eyes and he grips at the back of Atsumu’s neck like he’s going to fly to pieces if he lets go.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Atsumu whispers. If he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight, he can’t remember it and doesn’t want it. He can feel his own orgasm barreling towards him with the force of an extinction level even. When it hits, it’s going to rewrite every part of him. This Atsumu knows like he knows every stroke of his own name. </p><p>“Atsumu,” Shouyou sighs, eyes glassy. The hands around his neck turn demanding, dragging him down until Shouyou can press sloppy kisses to his mouth. Atsumu lets him, pants around the feeling of Shouyou seizing up around him, body wringing tight as his knot starts to fill. “Yeah,” Shouyou mewls, breathless. “Please. Atsumu. Please, oh—<em>ugh</em>. <em>Now!</em>”</p><p>Atsumu comes on command, orgasm hitting him so hard his vision goes white and his head fills with static.</p><p>Shouyou tips his head to the side, drags Atsumu’s face down to his scent glands—swollen and purple with bruises—and hisses, voice shattering around his own orgasm. “<em>Bite. Me.</em>”</p><p>So.</p><p>So. Atsumu does.</p><p>Stops being careful with his fangs and his force and locks his jaw until he tastes iron. Until Shouyou’s seizing around him, arms and legs locked tight to him, and screaming fit to wake the dead. Atsumu shudders. Shudders and comes and groans under the force of his orgasm, under the force of the reciprocal mating bond springing to life, under the force of Shouyou’s overwhelming pleasure. </p><p>Static fills the space between his ears as his body fills with a fizzing, effervescent sort of pleasure that sends little zings of electricity up his spine. He cuddles as close as he can to Shouyou, blanketing him with his body. </p><p>And then passes right the fuck out.</p>
<hr/><p>Someone’s petting his hair. </p><p>It’s a lazy, possessive drag of fingers through his bangs, over his scalp and the scratching through his undercut before it lifts to start the entire thing again. It feels so good that Atsumu can only hum, low and comfortable. He stretches, every part of him aching in the way that means he’s been worked over but good—like the best of hard practices satisfyingly completed. He’s cuddled up against something that’s soft and warm and smells so, so good.</p><p>Someone giggles when he snuffles and snuggles up closer. </p><p>Belatedly his rational mind starts kicking itself into gear—cognitive processes grinding together until they hit a critical speed like an old, slightly rusted diesel engine turning over—and he starts taking slow stock of himself and his surroundings.</p><p> It’s dark, even after he pries his eyes open to peer around himself, he can barely make sense of the room, as cast in moonlight and shadows as it is. For a long moment he can’t make sense of what he’s in. The deep indentation in the middle of the room filled with soft bedding, surrounded by a high wall of blankets and pillows. His warmup jacket is worked into the walls of the fort. And his jersey. And a soft black jersey that smells like cotton candy and cinnamon. </p><p>All his memories come back and club him upside the head like the dumb fucking idiot he absolutely is. </p><p>Fuck.</p><p><em>Shit</em>. Shitfuck. Kill him now before his dam has the chance. </p><p>A delighted peal of laughter derails the anxiety spiral of his thoughts before they can even get going. Shouyou’s lying underneath him, spread out like a feast fit for kings—his hair a halo across the pillows, his skin golden even in the thin moonlight. Bruises ring his throat, but nothing like the deep, red mark right over his scent gland. A mating bite. <em>Atsumu’s</em> mating bite on Shouyou’s throat.</p><p>Part of him wants to freak out. Thinks he really <em>should</em> be freaking out. (His dam is gonna kill him. He’s so dead. There’s no way he’s ever gonna talk fast enough to survive this.) But the rest of him—all of him that matters: his instincts and his heart and his soul—stutters to a stop in utter wonder.</p><p>Shouyou obligingly tips his head to the side as Atsumu raises a hand to press trembling fingers to the edge of the bite.</p><p>“Mine.”</p><p>For a long second he doesn’t even recognize it as his voice whispering the word—so shattered and full of awe that it doesn’t even sound like him at all.</p><p>Shouyou smiles at him—bright and brilliant and like the sun itself—“Yours.”</p>
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